"Have you ever considered making a business out of what you do with girls?" asked KC as she and Grace were once again on the veranda but with cocktails this time.
"But I have made a business out of the girls," she replied. "A very lucrative business. And all of them are involved in one way or another."
"I'm sorry," said KC. "I wasn't clear with my question. What I meant to say was that you have a wonderful talent for procuring extremely beautiful and sexual girls and then training them. Have you ever considered making a business out of that? Have you ever considered selling some of your girls and procuring new ones to train?"
Grace was not offended by the question. Charles had already let her know that she could be filthy rich just by selling the ones she had and retiring. But that wasn't what she wanted. She had claimed the ones she wanted and meant to keep them.
"I do have a male for sale," responded Grace. "But I have become rather attached to the girls." And then she chuckled. "Or they have become attached to me."
"I do hope that, if you ever change your mind, you will contact me. I would buy the whole lot of them."
"That's very flattering," said Grace. "I will keep that in mind. I'm curious. How many people inhabit this island?"
"Oh, it varies," responded KC. "Right now, we probably have twenty mistresses and a few more slaves. But there are times when we have over a hundred people living here. Why do you ask?"
"I was just curious. I wanted to know more about what I might be getting myself into."
KC reached over and squeezed one of Grace's breasts. "You are getting yourself into more than you ever imagined possible."
Grace sucked in her breath at the touch, feeling the warm hand of her hostess claiming her breast. "They certainly are accepting in this group. They seem to welcome newcomers quite readily," she thought.
KC then stood and set her glass down. "Come," she said, which prompted Grace to do the same. The two women bathed together in a luxurious large tub and Grace surrendered to the manipulations of her host who washed and shampooed her. "I could get used to this kind of pampering," thought Grace.
They walked to the dining hall where all of the other inhabitants of the island were gathered. KC led her guest to a table and two slaves immediately appeared and knelt beside them. One of them was Amy from the flight who knelt next to Grace's chair. She had lost all of the accoutrements since the flight and now was totally naked with her hands bound in front of her.
Grace looked around at the women seated at the tables and remembered the hierarchy which she had nicknamed "one breast, two breast, pussy" in her mind. One breast was the nickname for the most senior mistresses and she saw about ten of them. Two breast was the nickname for the next level. These were the ones who could wear a sarong around their waists but had to keep their chest naked and there were almost the same number of them. Pussy was the label for the newcomers like herself who wore not clothing at all. She saw only one woman other than herself who fit into that category.
She glanced around for her girls. She saw Alana kneeling beside a one-breast and eventually spotted Kelly kneeling beside a two-breast. But she hadn't seen Meredith since they got off the plane earlier that day and she was starting to worry. She kept scanning the room and finally sighted her beautiful red-haired slave. She was bound to a table with food piled on her and around her.
"If you're wondering about your Meredith," said KC, "she's dessert tonight. I think you might enjoy this."
Grace glanced back at Meredith to get a closer look and to try to understand what the hostess had just said. Meredith was bound in a very uncomfortable looking position. Her arms were pinned behind her and appeared to be bound to her calves, which were tucked beneath her leaving her thighs spread wide. Her mouth was wide open and Grace assumed that some kind of device had been placed between her upper and lower teeth to keep her that way. Piled high on her breasts were enormous amounts of whipped cream making her look like some kind of mammary-freak wet dream. Berries and sliced fruits and bananas were placed decoratively on the table beside her, along with bowls of various sauces. But what really caught Grace's attention was Meredith's belly. She looked as if she were two or three months pregnant the way that her belly was protruding.
"She looks quite full," Grace said, trying to act nonchalant about the condition of her slavegirl.
"Oh, she is," agreed KC. "She's marinating the fruits. The dessert chef spent most of the afternoon working on her. I understand that she's able to handle a lot."
"What do you mean?" asked Grace.
"Well, the report that I got was that the chef became concerned after she had filled her with more than he thought she could handle. She was worried that she was pushing things into her womb. So she reached in to start pulling the stuff out and…"
Grace interrupted. "Reached in? Reached inside Meredith?"
"Of course," replied KC. "It's done all the time. But what she found was that she was just able to handle more than she expected. So she stuffed her again and stuffed her tightly. She looks so cute like that, doesn't she?"
Grace looked back at her "pregnant" slavegirl and had to admit that she did look adorable, even if she also looked very uncomfortable.
Grace never got a chance to talk to Meredith that night. The one time that she approached the dessert tray, another mistress was sucking blackberries out of Meredith's mouth. That turned out to be why Meredith's mouth was pried open. Each time the berries were gone, someone refilled her mouth to let diners suck the fruits out and enjoy Meredith's soft lips.
Alana got to work the next day and she used this opportunity to teach Meredith the tricks of her trade. Keeping with the traditions of the island, their hands were bound in front of them but enough chain was left between their hands to let them do whatever they wished. Fiona oversaw their activities as Meredith learned how to use a surveyor's scope, how to take notes using the appropriate symbols and nomenclature, and how to take pictures from the best angles so that all of the needed information would be recorded.
Fiona mostly relaxed in a lawn chair that had been carried by the two girls but would occasionally interrupt their work "to make things a little more fun." One of her ideas of fun was to have the girls bend over while she inserted butt plugs into them with flowing tails that would swish against the backs of their calves as they moved about. Alana's was a direct match of the platinum hair on top of her head and, while Meredith's tail was red, it was not a very close match. The tails took some getting used to but soon the architect and apprentice were back at work.
The next diversion for the girls was a bit and bridle. Leather straps fit around their heads and across their foreheads and held the padded bar that ran across their mouths and between their teeth. This took a lot of getting used to and severely impeded their efforts since their conversations were reduced to nonsensical sounds.
"Aren't you the prettiest ponies?" praised Fiona before giving each naked rump a pat and sending them back to work.
The girls did manage to make progress by using a combination of garbled words and hand gestures. Eventually, however, it started to rain. "Maybe tomorrow we can get some real work done," thought Alana. Alana and Meredith quickly packed the instruments and papers into the two waterproof cases and prepared to leave.
"Not so fast," warned Fiona. "Let's get a little training in while we can, shall we?" Fiona stepped in front of each girl and placed a nipple clamp on each breast. The girls howled with each new clamp. Each had saw-tooth jaws that bit cruelly into their tender flesh and from each hung a tiny bell.