Sunday, The Day Before
Alicia Arrives at
Had Alicia been awake for the flight, she would have
known that they were in the air for over 12 hours before landing at a small
international airport. She was transferred by wheelchair to a large helicopter
which whirled out over the ocean for another hour and a half before settling
down on what appeared to be the flat-topped, partial remnants of a volcano’s
Mansion Island does not appear on any nautical charts.
The island itself is on the charts, but it is designated only with a series of
letters and numbers and the words “Privately Owned.” Most pilots know it as
Like many deep water islands, Mansion Island was of
volcanic origin. Apparently the volcano which formed it was active only twice.
In both instances, it formed a peaked island and then eventually exploded with
a tremendous eruption which left nothing but a ring of rock to mark where the
island once was. The earth’s mantle had moved slightly by the time the second,
smaller island was formed, so it was alongside the first. The inevitable
destruction of that island left a second ring of rock, slightly smaller than
the first. Between the two rings was a high plateau formed by the common wall
of the two volcano craters. Evidently the first blew out in one direction and
the high wall of rubble that it left helped the second blow out in the opposite
That was five or ten thousand years ago. Through the
centuries, sand beaches formed within the two rings. It was a nice place to
visit, but you wouldn’t want to live there. What wasn’t beach was either flat
rock or nearly vertical. Except for a few palm trees along the cliffs,
vegetation was minimal. There was, however, plentiful fresh water which
trickled from cracks in the high cliff walls. This made it a perfect water stop
for sailing ships, and in the mid-eighteenth century the island was claimed by
an English trading company. With the advent of steam ships in the nineteenth
century, it lost its purpose, except as a resort– and training– island for a
very special group of people who called themselves “The Mansion Club.”
The larger ring was a “Private Club” which was more or
less open to the public– if you were rich enough to afford it and your
interests ran toward the BDSM lifestyle. There was a large break in the ring of
rock and it was possible to bring a relatively large-sized yacht into the cove.
On any given day you could see six to eight very impressive boats bobbing in
the calm water.
A hotel had been built into the side of the cliff. Behind
the hotel were man-made caves which doubled as storage areas and typhoon
shelters. One of the storage rooms was actually a long tunnel which went
through the mountain to a much more modest building that faced the small ring.
Elevator shafts went from that tunnel up to the flat plateau on the top of the
The smaller ring was a “Training Center,” and not only
was it not open to the public, it was effectively cut off from the world. There
was no significant break in the ring of rock which surrounded the smaller cove.
Not even a sea kayak could make it into those waters and the crashing waves
guaranteed that any small boat which attempted it would be smashed to pieces on
the jagged rocks. The vertical cliffs of the center section went all the way to
the water on both sides. Thus, the only way in or out of the training center
was the tunnel through the center mountain of rock.
Because of its distinctive shape, many pilots used the
island as a reference point when flying over the open water. They call it
“handcuff island” because, from the air, Mansion Island resembles a set of
handcuffs with one ring open and one closed. Had they been able to clearly see
the naked, restrained slaves which dot the beach on the closed– and sometimes
the open ring side of the island– they would have been surprised to realize how
accurate their description actually was.
Dr. Holmann continued to accompany his niece on the
helicopter ride to the island. About a half hour after they took off, he
administered another hypo and removed the IV from her arm. A few minutes later,
she awoke. She was now sitting in a regular flight seat and was wearing a
simple white sundress.
“Where are we now?” she asked.
“Nearly there,” her uncle replied. He waited for her to
ask further questions, but she remained quiet.
“When we get there,” he continued, “you will have a few
decisions to make.”
“Such as?” she answered. Her haughtiness and anger were
beginning to return with her mental clarity.
“Such as whether you will willingly or unwillingly
participate in the beginning stages of your rehabilitation.” he replied.
“Either way, this will be very difficult for you, but if you refuse to
cooperate, it will be even more so.”
“How can it be worse that being kidnaped and tortured by
my own family?” she hissed back at him.
“We could have allowed the legal authorities to continue
with their investigation,” he replied, automatically reverting to his soothing
doctor mode. “You would then be going to prison for the next ten to twenty
years rather than to Mansion Island for a ten-day period of evaluation and
That seemed to get through to Alicia and she continued in
a much more normal, but apparently resigned, voice, “What do I have to do?”
Dr. Robert Holmann coughed slightly, as if embarrassed to
reveal what lay ahead of her, but then continued in his official doctor voice,
“The rehabilitation of a Master or Mistress is not unlike rebirthing therapy. I
tried to explain this to you at dinner with your father, but you were not yet
ready to hear it. You may still not be ready.”
He took her hand in his own and his voice changed from
emotionally distant doctor to concerned uncle, “As I said before, your power
must be totally taken away from you and then given back under controlled
circumstances. You must learn what it is like to be powerless so that you can
know how to use your power properly.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“You must learn what it is to be a slave in order to be a
“I will never be a slave!” she spit back at him.
He reached up and touched her neck. She didn’t feel his
touch. Instead she felt something move on her neck... something hard and cold
that encircled her neck. “You already are,” he answered softly.
Alicia grabbed at the ring around her neck as if she
would pull it free, but it was solid metal of some sort. “It is a slave’s
training collar,” her uncle said softly.
He held up a small mirror so that she could see herself.
The collar was a little over an inch high and about a half-inch thick. It
seemed to be made of some very hard metal, perhaps stainless steel. There was a
bright yellow band of plastic embedded in the metal. Spaced equally around the
circle, interrupting the plastic band, were four small half-rings which seemed
to be a part of the collar. Between the rings, repeated four times around the
collar on the band so that it could be read from any direction, was the
designation, “Z-00” in black lettering. There was no apparent lock mechanism,
or for that matter, any apparent break in the collar.
“There are several different colors for the collars,” he
explained. “You will be taught what each means. Yellow means that you are a
Master or Mistress experiencing rehabilitation, or in your case, evaluation as
to whether you should be rehabilitated as Mistress or trained as a slave.”
He waited for her to speak. When she remained silent he
continued, “There are also different classifications of slaves, from A to Z. A
is the highest. Z is the lowest.”
She grabbed at her collar and used the mirror to look
more closely at the designation.
“A slave in training may work his or her way up through
the classifications. When that happens, their designation changes. They may
change from C09 to C15, or they may change from C09 to B01. Whatever
designation is stated on a slave’s collar is that slave’s name while they are
in that stage of their training.”
He once again took her hands and looked into her eyes
with loving concern. “Alicia,” he said, “from this
moment on, until you progress through your rehabilitation, you are slave
zed-zero, the lowest slave on Mansion Island.”
There was a distinct thud and a slight shudder as the
skids of the helicopter set down on the island heliport. “It’s time,” he said
as the door slid open.
A set of steps was pushed against the low opening of the
helicopter by several men in light blue denim slacks with matching blue
T-shirts which said “Mansion Island Security” in large letters on the back. The
wording was repeated in a smaller logo on the front.
Once the steps were in place, Dr. Holmann helped his
niece step down onto the tarmac. “It is time for your first choice,” he said
quietly. “A slave may bring nothing to the island except their body and their
collar. If you are willingly entering this evaluation and rehabilitation,
remove your dress and accompany these gentlemen to your new quarters.”
Alicia’s voice returned to its full spoiled princess
haughtiness as she angrily asked, “And if I don’t?!”
Her uncle gave a deep sigh and said softly, “Goodbye,
zed-zero. I will see you in ten days... one way or another.” He then bowed
slightly to the security men and turned to reboard the helicopter.
As the door was being closed, he could hear the tearing
of cloth and his niece screaming, “Get your hands off of me, you ignorant
When they had lifted off, he looked down through the
window to see her being taken away. She was now naked. Padded handcuffs held
her hands behind her and secured them tightly to a small post that held her
firmly on a flat platform about the size and shape of a warehouse pallet skid.
It even had the little forklift holes along the sides of it at the bottom. In
fact, one of the guards who had met them was using a pallet jack to wheel her
toward the service elevators. She was apparently still screaming obscenities at
them as they pushed her into the building.
Alicia-Lee Holmann Viviano, now slave Z-00, had arrived
at Handcuff Island.