Once a Myth

Sullivan

I STOOD ON THE rocky ledge, overlooking the pristine waters and silky white sand of my beach.

I might as well have been seated on a throne within a seven-story cathedral.

Enter my shores, and I wasn’t just the owner of this establishment…

I was god.

And my women were goddesses.

Goddesses to touch and worship and debase to the point of brutality.

But hurt them past our contract, and I took lives as easily as I gave pleasure.

Men came here for what I could offer. For the indulgences I promised.

But not one of them was allowed entry until I agreed.

That was my power.

Piss me off, you’re evicted.

Hurt my goddesses, you die.

Simple.

A warm breeze wrapped around me as the helicopter wound down, and the man who hoped he was my next guest climbed gingerly out of it.

The helipad was built on a small circle surrounded by basalt rock, signature orchids of my island, and crystal blue water of the sea.

It was a welcoming entry point into paradise.

But it was also the gates of hell if you didn’t behave.

I waited with my hands in pinstripe pockets, eyeing him up, assessing who he was.

The investigation into his background showed a financial broker who’d struck it lucky in his early twenties, invested well, and turned one million into five by property developing.

Sexual health clean. No physical or mental illnesses. One older brother. Father alive. Mother deceased. Name? Ricky Danrea.

For thirty-nine years old, he’d done okay by success standards but didn’t seem to have any luck with a wife.

My staff ushered him up the small bamboo jetty, gave him a welcome drink with yet another orchid, and presented him directly to me.

They all came to me.

No one stayed on my island and played with my women without first being approved.

A piece of paper could only tell you so much about a person.

The eyes were where the truth lay.

Smiling pleasantly, I held out my hand. “Welcome.”

“Hello.” He shook it, wiping at the sweat already forming on his brow. In pressed taupe shorts and navy polo, he already looked on holiday.

Me, on the other hand, looked as if I was headed into a business meeting.

Which was true.

My island was my boardroom.

And this new shmuck?

My latest cash cow.

“Mr. Danrea, how nice of you to request a stay on my humble island.”

His blond eyebrow flew up. “Request?” His shoulders braced. “I already paid. There is no request.”

I nodded, hiding my patronizing sigh. “I understand.

“We do have a villa ready for you and are happy to escort you.” A staff member appeared with a leather-flocked binder and a non-disclosure agreement.

“The moment you’ve signed some paperwork, of course. Along with another minor formality.”

“What formality?”

“A trivial affair.” I smirked, moving toward him, going too close, popping the bubble of appropriate distance. “Nothing you’ll even notice.”

He gritted his teeth, standing his ground but pissed off about it.

“Tell me, whoever you are, why the fuck am I paying two hundred thousand dollars for a week on this island when your arrival committee is like a pat-down before going to jail?”

My palms itched to do just that.

To tear off his clothes and ensure he wasn’t concealing anything that could hurt my goddesses or threaten the private paradise I’d created.

Instead, my smirk turned to an icy grin, and I dove deep into his eyes.

Watery blue.

Guarded but weak.

A liar. A coward. A lucky sonuvabitch with no morals.

I didn’t like him.

I’d played my role as god for long enough to recognize a bastard.

After all, I was one.

My reflection was a perfect reminder of what not to let onto my shores.

I stepped back, waved the staff member with the NDA away, and clasped my hands behind my back. The helicopter whirred, engines firing, the pilots fully aware they were about to repeat their journey.

“I’ll refund you in full, Mr. Danrea. Have a good day.”

Turning around, I left my all-powerful ledge, the podium of power, and strolled back down the sandy laneways, through the orchid beds, and beneath the sweeping palm trees.

Serenity fell with birdsong and soft waves lapping at the sand.

I didn’t look back as security guards stepped forward, snatched Mr. Danrea, and stuffed him back into the helicopter.

The lost money meant nothing.

I had too much to ever spend.

This wasn’t about business anymore.

This was about fantasy.

About freedom.

About fucking.

This was my world, and I was master here.

My island, where I was the lawmaker and ruler.

Where I played gods and monsters with goddesses who loved me. Wanted me. Served me.

Who spent their immortality shackled and subservient at my feet.

* * * * *

My office was off-limits to everyone.

No cleaners entered, no staff of any kind. The floors were swept by yours truly. The shelves dusted by a man with untold wealth and severe control issues.

When I’d first found my archipelago, I’d stood on the larger of the forty-four small islands and ushered the real estate agent away.

I’d sent him soaring off in his company helicopter, so I could explore the land in peace. I was the only human in the midst of inquisitive parrots and tree frogs, jeweled fish and lethal anemones.

I walked from shore to shore, trading my crisp suit for rolled-up sleeves and dirt-smeared loafers.

And in the silence of nature and priceless serenity, I saw a paradise just waiting to be plucked from heaven and tempted deep into sin.

The palm trees rustled with lust, their fronds fondling the warm tropical breeze. The sand whispered about sex and pleasure. The privacy promised any desires would be welcomed.

I hadn’t been in the business of flesh peddling. I’d had no intention of using another’s assets against them.

However, I’d always been shrewd and ruthless, and if I spotted an opportunity…well, I was an opportunist.

As I’d waited for the real estate agent to return, I’d hastily plotted out a business that sprung from debauchery and debasement. I’d always swung toward the darker desires.

I’d sampled the underworld of what was on offer in every major city around the world.

And I’d found nothing satisfying.

The clubs where submission and dominance promised titillating desire had been infiltrated by too many wannabes. The hardcore play had become contrived.

The truth of no boundaries or borders no longer real.

Subs came with strings.

Clubs came with contracts.

And the permission between legal and illegal became blurred by men who sought to use others' exploitation for their own gain.

And now, I’m one of them.

I smirked at the irony. I shook my head at the inevitability.

Flipping open my laptop, I typed in the thirteen-key password and swiped my fingerprint. The gauzy white curtains fluttered by the open driftwood doors.

The squawks of parrots and the squabble of local squirrels fighting over the offerings of fresh fruit I placed on the intricately carved bird table each morning serenaded me.

I’d bought these islands for me.

To hide. To be free.

After running my parents’ pharmaceutical company for a decade, after their yacht sank off the coast of Indonesia, I’d returned to the same area to pay my respects. They had no graves.

There were no headstones to confess to. Just clear turquoise water and twinkling islands just waiting to be owned.

Without Sinclair & Sinclair Group, I would never have been able to afford such an impetuous and impromptu purchase.

As it was, thanks to my parents’ hard work investing in young scientists, along with my own natural inclination toward lab work and ability to cook up new drugs with untried recipes, the company went from private to public to unstoppable.

A billion-dollar behemoth that stole hospital and pharmacy contracts worldwide, undercutting and outperforming so many other household brands of medicine.

Thanks to my tireless work and giving my soul to that company, I had very deep pockets indeed.

So deep, in fact, I’d never reach the bottom or figure out a total number because, each day, that wealth continued to grow.

It grew organically, drunk on success, attracting more and more yields, allowing me to buy the secrecy and skills of a very special group of scientists—who I’d personally worked with previously—who ensured my Goddess Isles was more than I’d ever dreamed it could be.

It wasn’t just a paradise.

It was a fantasy.

Multiple untold fantasies. Countless whimsical wishes. Endless mythical desires.

In so many fucking delicious ways.

A new email waited to be read, delivered by the secret server and encoded with impenetrable firewalls. Clicking on the message, I skimmed the content.

To: S.Sinclair@goddessisles.com

From: 89082@gmail.com

Subject: New Employee

Dear Mr. Sinclair,

An employee fitting the description you provided us with has just been acquired by our recruiting agency. She has been prepared for her new role.

She will arrive for duty at five a.m. local time two days from now.

We appreciate your ongoing dealings.

No sign-off. No name. No hint of the traffickers who did the unthinkable.

I reread the email, seeing the truth behind the lies and the honesty of what I was.

A girl fitting your request has been found and abducted. She has been held for the required time to ensure no police or embassy searches will be a problem. She will be yours by dawn in two days.