Six Masters Island - The Cinderella Syndrome (10 page)

Daryl was halfway up the wide staircase when he called out, “Sloan, I’ll be in my room.
 
Can you send up Marigold?
 
I’m exhausted, and I just need someone who won’t be too distracting.”

“No problem,” his brother replied.
 
Sloan still had Pansy hanging strapado in his bedroom.
 
“Mother, I’ll be with Belladonna.
 
She should be ready to evaluate in the morning.”

“Thank you, Sloan,” Cynthia replied without looking back.
 
Alexander held open the door to the basement for her to lead her new exotic to her underworld garden.
 
He caught Sloan’s eye and the two men smiled at each other, pleased to see Cynthia so aroused and excited by her new flower.

Alexander followed behind the two women, occasionally reaching out to stroke the naked girl’s bottom.
 
She would immediately tighten her ass and hurry forward a few steps.
 
He was already conditioning her to understand he would play a major role in ensuring that she met his wife’s expectations.

With as many young women who had traveled the stone halls to the dungeon garden, both before and after he had met his wife over three decades ago, no woman could dissuade or persuade his interests away from his Cinderella.
 
His love and his own insane desire for her had grown impossibly stronger over the years.
 
Alexander was surprised when Cynthia led the girl past what he considered to be the introduction chambers.
 
She led her deeper under the castle and stopped at a door almost to the end, where the lights in the hallway were spaced further apart and cast impossibly more frightening shadows into the darkness.

This was a punishment chamber that was rarely used, filled with sadistic, torturous appliances.
 
They brought girls into this terrifying place when they received special requirements for training a slave for her buyer.
 
Usually, just the sight of the strange furnishings frightened girls to a degree that made them impossible to work with.
 
Alexander immediately understood that Cynthia knew this girl was strong, and that the anticipation of following the circuit of increasing pain each new device promised would be its own torture for her new stepdaughter.
 
Alexander felt his cock thickening at the thought of the time that
he
would be spending with the girl, preparing her for his wife’s training.

Marissa might have torn the clamps herself, if not for Alexander stepping quickly behind her to keep her from pulling back in horror.
 
Whatever Marissa had anticipated had not been this… not this terrifying room with no refuge… no place that did not promise pain.

“You named her Orchid?” Alexander confirmed.

“Yes, the special one in the back by the cherry tree,” Cynthia answered.
 
“I need to get the collar after I get her secured.”

Alexander thought for a moment.
 
“The dark one with the flecks that you’ve worked so hard on.”

“Next to the calla lilies, it was my mother’s favorite,” Cynthia said.
 
“I was afraid I had forgotten the mix she used to produce it.”

“Well, you only managed the colors you wanted from the blossom this year.
 
Perhaps your new flower is a sign of fate for you,” Alexander suggested.

The boys had been raised with her obsession and did not think it to be unusual.
 
Alexander adored her for her attention to the gardens and the serious nature she applied when creating her beautiful hybrid blossoms.
 
All except three, he remembered with a smile.

It had taken Cynthia five years to produce the ugliest designs imaginable.
 
The color was dull and mottled, the stems thorned in irregular burrs, and the petals themselves weak and stringy.
 
She sent the three plants to Ava and her daughters a month before their house was foreclosed on.
 
Cynthia included the certificates from some minor society that had finally agreed to catalog the plants, indicating the hideous designs had actually been named after the women.
 
To Cynthia, it was the greatest insult she could personally offer.
 
She considered their fall to poverty something they should have anticipated.

Cynthia guided the girl to the middle of the floor and tied the leash to a bolt on the ground.
 
Alexander dropped the chain from the ceiling and hooked the back of the girl’s collar to it.
 
Marissa was effectively immobilized.
 
Cynthia gave her husband’s hand an affectionate squeeze and swept out of the room to collect the box of Orchid’s restraints from her bedroom.

Alexander walked in front of the girl and stared down into her terrified eyes.
 
“You do understand, don’t you girl?
 
My wife is everything to me, and she wants you.
 
This is quite an honor, though it may take a while for you to understand this.
 
You
will do
exactly as she orders.
 
Cynthia can be quite cruel, though I promise you that I have methods even
she
is unaware of.
 
I
will
see her happy, girl.”

Marissa tried to look away from the captivating black gaze.
 
Everywhere she looked there were frightening devices or equipment she did not understand.
 
What kind of nightmare is this?
 
Daddy… daddy, please come find me,
she begged silently.

The woman returned and secured the new cuffs and collar on the girl.
 
“Orchid,” she sighed, and Cynthia stepped back to admire her new stepdaughter.
 
She cleared her throat and said, “You will refer to me as ‘stepmother’, and whenever I enter the room you will ask if you may attend me.
 
Those are the first words I expect to hear when I remove this gag.”

Alexander did not miss the added edge of anticipation in her voice when she issued her usual first order.
 
He gripped the girl’s jaw and forced her to look into his eyes while he removed the foam plug.
 
Just as the soaked sponge cleared her mouth, he whispered, “I
will
see her happy, girl.”

As terrified as Marissa was, her mind snapped to the logical conclusion that promised her a measure of safety.
 
She rasped out, “Can I attend you?”

Cynthia was elated.
 
She stepped forward and curled the short hair behind the girl’s ear, just as her own mother had done so many years ago.
 
“Please, stepmother, may this slave attend you?” she encouraged.

Marissa’s eyes welled with tears again, and she glanced quickly at Alexander.
 
The promise of pain was shining in his eyes, and she knew that the man was looking for a reason to demonstrate his sadistic talent on her.
 
“Please, stepmother, may this slave attend you?” she asked in a trembling whisper.

Cynthia turned and said flatly, “You threatened her.”

“No, my love.
 
I merely promised her that I would see you got what you desired from her.”
 
Alexander stroked his palm down his wife’s long tresses.
 
“I will see you happy, Cinderella, and if your new exotic needs my encouragement, I fully intend to make sure that she understands her new position with you.”

“I love you, Alexander,” Cynthia smiled.
 
She was certain that there was never a woman loved and treated with such warmth.

“Let’s get your Orchid washed so you can begin working with her.
 
It took you over ten years to get the proper results from the bloom in the outside garden,” he reminded her.

Alexander reached for the hose while Cynthia removed the clamps and chains.
 
She picked up the bristled brush and soap and looked at the girl.
 
“Tell me why you arrived here with a soiled cunt.”

Marissa gasped.
 
Cynthia scraped the dried brush up her slit.
 
“Why is your pussy crusty, stepdaughter?”

“I… I…” Marissa frantically searched for an answer.
 
Somehow, she knew that the man who abducted her would tell this woman the circumstances surrounding her capture.
 
She considered lying and saying her lover worked in the building, but she was afraid these people could tell that she was not speaking the truth.
 
She hung her head as much as she could with the thick, chained collar.
 
“I was trying to get a modeling contract,” she whispered.
 
A small sob escaped her lips at the confession of whoring herself out.

“’I was trying to get a modeling contract, stepmother, and I let a man fuck me’,” Cynthia coaxed.

“Oh, god,” Marissa shivered.
 
The woman’s insanity was terrifying.
 
“I was trying to get a modeling contract, stepmother, and I let a man fuck me.”

“Did you get the contract?” Cynthia asked.

“No.
 
No, stepmother, I did not.
 
He laughed at me.”

The humiliation in the beautiful girl’s voice was honest, though Cynthia knew it was due to the man’s laughter and not the admission of the sexual act.
 
“Stupid idiot,” Cynthia muttered.
 
She smiled and looked up at the girl.
 
“How could he not recognize such a unique flower?”
 
Cynthia had already learned that playing the girl’s ego would reap the greatest rewards.

All through the painful, scraping washing, through Alexander pushing the nozzle into her holes and whispering “Good, girl,” Marissa’s mind whirled on the woman’s appraisal of her.
 
As insane as the woman was, it was obvious that she recognized Marissa’s exotic beauty and superior manner.
 
This conditioning of the stepmother’s constant reminders acknowledging Marissa’s potential would become Orchid’s comforting refuge through the sadistic training ahead.

When Marissa hung dripping from the chains and the burning patch worked to remove the last of her pussy hair, Cynthia stepped forward and retrieved the horrid clamping chains from her robe pocket.
 
“You were naughty for running, Orchid, so you must be punished.”

“Yyyes, stepmother,” Marissa chattered.

“But, you have been quite obedient since you learned you were to be my special flower, so I will not attach the clamp to your clit.”

“Thank you, stepmother.”
 
Oh god, she’s going to leave me in the nipple pinchers.
 
She said I was her special flower, so I don’t think she’s going to really hurt me or scar me.
 
The thought of her lovely looks being marked was the most frightening torment Marissa could consider.

Cynthia secured the clamps on the tightened cold buds and lifted the thin chain connecting them.
 
She pulled, and Marissa felt her nipples trying to support the heavy weight of her full breasts as they rose.
 
The woman’s thumb caressed the side of Marissa’s lip.
 
“Open, my beautiful Orchid,” Cynthia said softly.
 
She placed the chain raising Orchid’s nipples between her lips.
 
“I expect your breasts to be displayed proudly when I return, stepdaughter.
 
If you drop the chain, you will not be able to reach it again,” she warned.

Marissa’s tears flowed again and she nodded slight acknowledgement.
 
Her nipples were still sorely numb from the washing and brush, but once the shadow of that experience was gone she knew that she would feel the full effect of the clamps on her nipples as they were forced to support the rest of the weight of her breasts.
 
It was one of the few times Marissa could remember wishing she had not been blessed with such fullness.

Cynthia reached under and cupped the globes, supporting the weight and relieving her Orchid of some of her pain.
 
She brushed her fingers gently down their sides.
 
“Magnificent, Orchid.
 
Truly beautiful.”
 
She lowered her hands and left the room with her husband.

Orchid managed to hold the chain for two hours, and Belladonna looked up from her own torture with Sloan when she heard the wail coming from the depths of the dungeon.

Chapter IV

Liam cruised east in his sport car, tapping the steering wheel in time to the music.
 
He drew the blonde this time, and according to the rules she had to be natural.
 
Liam thought about Marigold, his twin’s less than arousing presentation from their last collection trip.

Kyle had told Liam that he had another girl picked out, but that he discovered the color was not real on the night before he had to head back to the estate.
 
While she was sucking his dick, he stared in disbelief at the dark curls on her pussy.
 
It turned out she had used lemon juice to lighten her eyebrows and the hair on her arms.
 
In utter disgust at the wasted time with the girl, he sent her home.

Fuck
, Liam thought.
 
As if it was not enough of a challenge to find a natural, now the bitches are trying to deceive us
.

Poor Kyle had been left with the bland motel maid who had already tried to shyly flirt with him.
 
He discovered she had just turned eighteen and had been released from foster care by the family who had raised her for the past two years when they could not receive any more state funds for her.
 
Suzy Pickerel had never been reported missing.
 
The angry motel manager found her cart still in the maid’s room and he figured that, like so many others, she had either hitchhiked out of town or taken off with one of the guests.
 
At least he was saved the expense of her last paycheck.

Liam had no true destination in mind, preferring to allow a chance meeting to occur.
 
Of course, if he did not find a suitable quarry in the next two days, he might have to nudge the process along.
 
Liam continued tapping the wheel as he sped down the two-lane road.
 
It was farm country of someplace close to New England, and he knew that he would have to get back to the cities soon.

Frances McCray leaned over a fence to watch some horses grazing.
 
Her legs were tired from her three hour trek, and she was a little pissed off that the truck driver she had hitched a ride with had turned out to be such a jerk.
 
It was not that he had tried to put the moves on her… men rarely did.
 
He just kept staring at her and asking her the same creepy questions she had put up with all of her life.

She regretted not getting out at the Interstate, but she had been asleep when the trucker had pulled in to deliver his load at the farm.
 
She managed a polite smile and thanks to the truck driver, while the farmer’s wife stared at her and handed her a sandwich to travel with.
 
It had been eaten by the time she made it up the mile long driveway, and Frances turned north on the roadway.

At least it was slightly overcast, making the day cooler and her long sleeves a little more bearable.
 
Her initial optimism at making the dangerous trip to the concert by tomorrow was beginning to dim.
 
Only two trucks and a tractor had passed her since she began walking and, as usual, her odd appearance caused them to speed up instead of offering her a ride.
 
Wearing the flannel shirt and wide brimmed hat were a necessity, not a fashion statement.

She figured she could call her father to send her bus fare for the trip home.
 
It would be worth having him yell at her not to have to put up with the stupid looks people gave her.
 
It had been worse growing up, though.
 
Now that she had started college, some of the people she met thought it was neat.
 
Ya… right.
 
For the most part, she still made them nervous and they avoided her.

Frances looked up when she heard a motor in the distance, and she sighed and picked up her small backpack and walked to the side of the road.
 
Her pale thumb stuck out from the bottom of her sleeve while a loose strand of her white hair whipped across her sunglasses.
 
She tossed it impatiently over her shoulder.

What the fuck?
 
Liam squinted through the windshield as he approached a girl.
 
He only guessed that she was a girl, by the shorter stature and floppy hat she was wearing.
 
The closer he got to her, the more he smiled and began to slow the car.
 
Liam looked up and down the road, assuring himself they were alone on the endless miles of country asphalt.
 
“Not the busiest place to try to get a ride,” he chuckled.
 
“Where are you headed?”
 
He did not need to be picking up ‘Farmer Jones daughter’ who was expected home for lunch.

“Boston,” Frances answered.
 
“There’s a Ryker concert tomorrow night.”

“They’re the best,” Liam replied.
 
“Though, I think you might have been able to pick a better traveled route to get there.”
 
Shit, I hope she doesn’t belong to one of these farms.

“I messed up,” Frances admitted.
 
“I hitched a ride with a trucker and fell asleep.
 
The jerk didn’t wake me up before he left the highway to deliver his load.”
 
Man… what a hottie
, Frances thought.
 
He had windblown wavy dark hair and seriously green eyes, and, so far, he had not seemed the least bit put off by her appearance.

“I’m Liam, climb in.
 
I’m just sort of cruising and giving my car a good run, but I can at least get you back to the highway.
 
Hell, maybe I’ll even hit the concert myself.
 
I don’t have to head back until Sunday.”

“I’m Frances.
 
Thank you so much.
 
I figured I’d probably be stuck walking, and I have no idea how far it is to the exit,” Frances said in obvious relief.
 
She squeezed her duffle into the small space behind the passenger seat and climbed in.

“Let me put the top up,” Liam offered.

Frances froze.
 
“It’s okay to leave it down, if you want to.”

“No, I think I’ve managed to feel the wind through my hair long enough,” Liam laughed.
 
He wondered what her eyes would look like.

“Really, I’m used to it,” Frances assured him with a hint of sadness.
 
Most of the people she knew would not have considered the offer.
 
Of course, most of them had never even met an albino before.

The top latched in place and Liam sped up again.
 
“At first, I thought you might have overdone the bleach a little,” he grinned.
 
He wondered how sensitive the girl was about her condition.
 
He noticed that her hands were pale as ivory porcelain, with a hint of blue veins shadowing them.

“Don’t I wish,” Frances laughed, and she pulled off the floppy hat.
 
“I tried putting a brown rinse on it once… about four years ago.
 
I guess I should have tried a light blonde or something, because I looked like some kind of creature from a weird movie.
 
I forgot about my eyebrows and did a horrible job with some kind of brow coloring, only to have to deal with my eyelashes and then the white fuzz on my arms.
 
It was
so
not worth it.”

“How about your eyes?” Liam asked.
 
He noticed she still had not removed her sunglasses.

“Unh, unh.
 
Trust me, too weird,” Frances assured him.
 
It was nice having a normal conversation with a guy, about her extremely abnormal condition.

“No way.
 
Come on, I want to see them,” Liam persisted.

“Nope.
 
You’ll drop my butt back on this bumpkin road, and I’ll miss my concert.”

“Are they red?” Liam asked, intrigued.
 
He had heard that happened sometimes.

“No, they aren’t red.”
 
Frances changed the subject.
 
“What kind of work do you do?”

“Nope,” Liam replied.
 
“I guess we’re at a stalemate.”

Frances talked about college and how her mother had run off when she was ten.
 
Her dad was okay, but he was marrying a woman who thought that Frances looked creepy, and she scared the lady’s kids.
 
She figured she had about six months left at home before she was going to have to try to figure out a way to get a job and move out.
 
Frances had not realized that Liam had slowly been coaxing information from her.

“In high school, there was this one girl in particular.
 
She was tall, and of course, beautiful.
 
Every guy wanted to date her, and I think most of them had.
 
She used to be so cruel to me.
 
Not just teasing, like some of the other girls, but really mean.
 
She used to tell people they could catch my disease if they got near me.
 
I mean, even though I think the kids knew it wasn’t true, she’d been saying it since we were in second grade.
 
If someone moved over the summer, she would convince the other kids that they caught my weird disease and that’s why they were gone.
 
She would always find ways to get near me, because I think it made her feel even prettier.
 
She was
so
pretty, and she used to say, ‘Poor Fanny, white as a baby’s butt.
 
Do you know that white is the absence of color?
 
That’s what you are, Fanny.
 
Absent.’”

Frances shook herself out of the memory.
 
“Sorry, it gets to me sometimes.
 
Kids can be pretty mean, and I don’t think they understood how much it hurt me.
 
Heck, I don’t even know if they cared, because no one really talked to me much.
 
I mean, I couldn’t do the stuff that they did, and with all the shades pulled down at my house… my eyes are
really
sensitive to light… they used to make up stupid stories like I was a vampire, or something.”
 
Frances shrugged.

She looked at the car and the clothes Liam had on, and finally, her curiosity got the better of her.
 
“Seriously, are you a drug dealer or something?
 
This is a pretty expensive car.”

“Nope, not until I see the eyes,” Liam answered, setting his jaw.

“Well, shoot.
 
All right, but you had better pull over.
 
I don’t want you wrecking or anything,” Frances mumbled.
 
What the heck… he would probably see them when it gets dark, anyway
.

When the car braked, Frances turned to him and lowered her oversized sunglasses.
 
She waited for the nervous freaked out look from him.
 
Instead, his green eyes narrowed for just a second, and then filled with…
lust?
 
Is that what that is?
 
Frances was not sure, as no boy had ever looked at her with sex on his mind.
 
Running away, maybe, but certainly not the desire she thought she was seeing.

“Oh, wow.
 
You’re beautiful,” Liam whispered in true awe.
 
The translucently fair creature had mostly pale blue eyes, with a hint of pink that made them appear to have lavender striations through them.
 
She had small light pink full lips that formed a pretty shape when she pursed them together nervously… like she was doing now.

“Okay, so what do you do?” Frances asked, pushing her glasses back up before the noon sun irritated her eyes too badly.
 
She had always been careful to even wear tinted lenses in school.
 
Fortunately, with all of her other strangeness, her eyesight was still pretty good.
 
She only had trouble with very small writing, like in some of her schoolbook footnotes.

“My brothers and I collect exotic flowers for my mother,” Liam replied.

Frances thought he was kidding, until he put the car in gear and resolutely pulled back onto the road.
 
“Flowers?
 
I didn’t know there was that much money in them.”
 
I guess rich people pay a lot for all sorts of weird stuff, so I guess if she is into flowers, it’s possible.

“A lot of money,” Liam agreed.
 
“She and father have other income, but mother spends a lot of time training her flowers until they are exactly the way she wants them… and then, she sells most of them to buyers overseas.”

“What an interesting thing to do,” Frances replied.
 
“I only had a few plants in my room while I was growing up.
 
My parents let me know pretty quick that outside gardening was not something I should aspire to,” she laughed softly.
 
“Or tag, or bikes, or swimming… or any of the other stuff that keeps kids from calling you a freak.”

“I don’t want you to take this wrong, Frances, but you look like a little fairy to me.
 
If anything, I think the girls should have been green with envy, and the boys were idiots to let you get away.”

Frances looked up at him in doubt.
 
This hottie could
not
be serious.
 
She had the weird feeling that he
was
, though.
 
One of the few things Frances remembered clearly about her mother from when she was very young, was her reading her the story where the prince fit the glass slipper onto Cinderella’s foot.
 
She had kissed the top of Frances’ head and said, “That’s you, Frances, a princess… and there is a slipper for every foot.
 
Just be patient.”