Chapter Four

A boring pay per view movie drags me down a long path toward renewed sleep. But the rising sun finds me waking to a television screen with a message enticing me to select another cinematic nightmare. I decline and relieve myself of the annoyance with a push of a button.

The phone rings. It quickly becomes apparent that I have overslept and the driver for my car ride to Lady Constance’s waiting boat has been imbibing coffee in the hotel lobby for 20 minutes.

I hurriedly shower, pack and scurry to the lobby. There, a very large native male greets me in a manner conducive to all I have met in the employ of the domineering Lady Constance. He bows and humbly rushes to take my luggage.

The ride is short and I am surprised when, instead of going to the island’s main marina, we veer onto a narrow road engulfed by tropical greenery. A casual passerby would overlook it as a pathway to a squalid native hut, but when we traverse a bend a guardhouse indicates otherwise. There is also a formidable fence, topped with strands of viciously sharp razor wire, which also serves to further suggest something other than squalor.

A huge guard, machine pistol in hand, nods to our driver and an automatic gate slides open. The auto eases forward and within a hundred yards or so the ocean comes into view, along with a long pier and several cinder block structures. The car stops in front of the furthest building. A door opens in response to the sound of the car. A very tall black woman steps into the Caribbean sunlight. It is Jasmine, the nurse and trainer for Lady Constance’s toy submissive, Boy.

She is casually attired. Normally, she is wearing her starched white uniform, but this morning a colorful sarong is wrapped about her muscular physique, making her appear as a native.

“Good morning, Doctor. I have signaled for the boat waiting off shore. It will be here in minutes. We try to minimize activity here during the day. Please come inside and wait.”

The driver hurriedly carries my luggage into the simple block building. On his way out he falls to his knees, reaches for Jasmine’s hand and obsequiously kisses it. He arises and closes the door after him.

My eyes slowly become accustomed to the lack of light. It is a magnificently accoutered room with a distinguished antique bar, heavy oak tables, large chairs, comfortable couches and thick dark wood paneling. It is an interesting juxtaposition to the stark, cinder block outer walls. There are no windows and a small crack under the exit door emits sunlight, which appears dazzlingly bright.

“We are equipped here for lengthy stays, should there be a sudden storm or other cause for delay. There is a bathroom should you need it and a small kitchen if you’d like coffee or refreshments.

“The other buildings are for supplies awaiting t