Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

I dream of swinging a giant foam dick at Scarlett's head and knocking her into a mud pit. It's a good dream. Being awakened by the gentle shaking of my squire is not as pleasant.

"Good morning, Sunshine," he says when my eyes crack open.

Pulling a pillow over my head, I roll onto my side, turning my back to him. "Go away, Zed."

"Can't do that. It's time to formally begin your, shall we say, training."

Groaning, I flop onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. How did I get here? What on earth was the recruiter thinking when a hammered chick with a healthy dose of snark landed in his office? I wish I could recall that whole exchange. Who I spoke with and what was said. But it's locked up in a cabinet of liquor-soaked memories, unassailable and mysterious.

Thinking about the events of the night before, it's hard to say whether or not I'm out of place among the dozens of Novices living on the island. I'd have to speak to them to determine that. But after witnessing the games and seeing so many of them abandoning themselves in the pursuit of sexual gratification and entertainment, I can most assuredly state that I'm a prude. Well, not totally prudish. Denying the flutters of excitement in various parts of my body would make me a liar. So, let's just say that I've discovered voyeurism. I'm okay with that. Making a spectacle of myself, on the other hand, makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing here.

Zed opens an armoire and selects a white gauzy dress, laying it out on the bed, before ducking into the hall. I sit up and pick at the fabric. It's thin but not absurdly translucent. At least I won't be naked. Yet.

I slip it on and finger-comb my hair, grimacing at the tangles my blonde tresses manage to acquire each night. Then I sit on the bed and stare at the wall, delaying the inevitable. Is it infantile? Yes. Do I get a measure of satisfaction doing something both passive-aggressive and childish? Also, yes.

"Eden, sitting there won't make your training go away. In fact, it might convince me to add a few more tasks to your schedule today."

I turn my head and glare at the door. How the fuck does he know I'm just sitting here? I quickly sweep the room for a camera, but either it's so well hidden I can't find it or, more likely, there isn't one, and I'm that predictable. Stomping to the door is both juvenile and vaguely satisfying. I wrench it open, wincing when it whacks against the wall, likely denting it .

Zed raises an eyebrow. "Cranky? Or is this your usual state in the morning?"

"Both."

He nods. "Good to know. Follow me."

A shower, blissfully solo this time, and a full breakfast of fruit, yogurt, and flaky croissants, and I'm escorted to one of the many buildings in the Novice compound.

"Eden!" a young woman's voice calls out.

I turn and find Piper waving. Ditching Zed, I hurry over to her. "I'm so happy to see a face I know!" I give her a hug, but part of me doesn't want to let go. She's known. She's a piece of home. Reluctantly pulling away, I drop my arms and ask, "What did you think of the games last night?"

"Uh, it was something. I don't remember seeing that particular theme before."

Once again, I regret not taking Lily's advice and binge-watching snippets from the island or even tuning in in real-time. Piper is clearly better prepared. "Do you think you'll be one of those out on the track in the future?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. Some of it looked fun. Although the whole naked-aside-for-a-pair-of-sneakers thing was weird."

I laugh, recalling how much more exposed I felt when I wore sandals and nothing else. "Yeah. You're braver than I am if you even consider participating in the games."

Piper cocks her head. "Oh, you've got a little daredevil hiding in there. She came out on the plane."

"That was the vodka monster. She makes special appearances. I can assure you, I have very little in common with her."

She laughs, about to say something, but her squire draws her away. I wave and walk back to Zed. Taking a deep breath, I look at him and say, "Let's do this."

"Consent is the cornerstone of Pleasure Island. It is only through consent that inhabitants can fully immerse themselves in their sexual journey." Zed points to a wooden plaque on the wall of the small room we're sitting in. It reads: Only when we are free of inhibitions will we truly awaken. "You will be asked to give consent at various stages, depending on where your path takes you. Please know that you can always withdraw your consent. Everything you experience on the island will happen because you wish it to."

He picks up a clipboard and leans back in his chair. "Let's discuss what you're comfortable with."

"Oh. Uh." My brain is stuck in neutral.

Zed gives me a little wait time and then adds. "We can begin with the basics. Do you consent to vaginal intercourse?"

Well, duh. "Yes."

"Anal?"

"That's a hell no. It's an exit only."

He smirks, jotting on the paper. "Too bad. Perhaps someday you'll change your mind."

I make a face. "Don't hold your breath."

"Do you prefer men or women, or would you like to enjoy both?"

I squirm in my chair. These are really personal questions. Have I ever fantasized about being with a woman? Sure. Would I ever act on it? I don't think so. I saw enough dick last night to confirm which team I play for, and yet… "Men."

"Scarlett will be disappointed to hear that." He tilts his head and smiles at me. "She dotes on her submissives, and, I'm told, is an excellent lover."

"That crazy bitch isn't coming anywhere near my cooter."

Zed chuckles. "Duly noted." Scribble, scribble. "How do you feel about being restrained during intercourse?"

Oh, my God! That went from 0-60 in two seconds! I suddenly feel like I'm in Fifty Shades of Grey. Is there going to be a contract? "Define restraint."

He launches into a list of restraining techniques, beginning with R-rated devices and ending with XXX. My eyes are bugging by the time he finishes. I end up agreeing to satin cuffs with lots of flex.

For the next twenty minutes, Zed goes through his list, taking notes here and there and crossing things off based on my responses. In the end, I choose a safe word, TP—cue the giggle of my inner Cornholio—and consent to things like feathers and silk blinders. Nothing painful. Nothing too restrictive—toss in a few toys he mentioned, and I have to admit, I'm excited.

Setting the clipboard on the small table next to his chair, he leans forward. "I will take you on an in-depth tour of the grounds. Like where you were last night, subscribers can view these areas."

He keeps talking, but I no longer listen. Viewers watched me last night? Crap. With everything going on, I completely forgot about the cameras. I must've looked like such an ass, toppling off my pedestal and mouthing off to a Master. "Were viewers paying attention to me last night?"

He pauses mid-sentence, though I have no idea what he's rambling about. "Oh, yes! You were very popular. In fact, I think it's safe to say you've started your fanbase."

I slump in my chair. Great. The birth of Eden's Spazzy Superfans. I wonder if they'll make bumper stickers.