Brooklyn Claimed in the Grotto

Chapter 1

Mr. Davis

On the evening of the first night, I bring the twelve participants to the vast dining room at Honeydew Resort.

Well, eleven of them, at first.

Katie is still in her room at the start of the night’s feast, likely recuperating from her raucous time at the lagoon earlier today.

The first victim of the hunt handled it well, I’d say. Then again, I expected the big-titted little pixie to do well because she does sex work for a living—she’s a camgirl.

Being naked and getting fucked is her job.

Still, from watching today’s festivities from my lookout suite and videos, I can tell Katie has never been taken by five men at once before.

She and her man Drew might live a semi-hotwife lifestyle, sharing each other to friends and other people to make their streams livelier, but they have a long way to go before they’ll be fully immersed in the freeuse community.

I expect, by the end of the week, their immersion will be complete.

For now, I stand at the end of the long oak table where the participants are seated, chatting to each other. I don’t pair the seats by the couple—anyone is free to converse or mingle with whomever they wish.

During the first hour of the dinner, cocktail hour, I simply watch the goings-on. See who has taken to who, and who might befriend others or keep to themselves during their stay on Isle Honeydew.

My waiters are all dressed like me: in crisp suits, ties, and with handsome smiles on their faces.

I notice some of the participating girls—and guys—glancing at the attractive young waiters and waitresses who take their drink orders.

The men are spent, and somewhat bashful, until they get some drinks in them. I daresay it’s the first time any of them have taken part in such a lewd activity with so many other strangers . . . and then to dine with them afterward? It makes sense they’d feel a bit embarrassed.

After all, every guy here now understands who outsizes them, who is dominant, who is submissive, and who would suck a cock the first chance they got.

Brent, for instance. He’s the partner of Joy, the smiley Filipina who can’t stop bouncing her knees at the table. Brent is arguably the most attractive man here, with his sharp features, dark texture, and slick black hair.

He was the first person to find Katie at the lagoon, the first to fuck her with Max before the others arrived, and only too happy to jerk Max off so he could get hard later on and continue the mating session.

From my info sheets, I knew Joy and Brent were allies of the LGBT community. I just didn’t know they’d be so quick to show it on the island.

At the dinner table, Joy seems to have become good friends with Eve, the petite little blondie who looks utterly lost here.

Eve looks like a particularly fun girl to break. Joy talks at her like she’s high on coke, and Eve smiles wide, nodding along like a little puppy.

Max, the hunky bald waiter and partner of Brooklyn, is chatting with Tyson, the white-toothed Hollywood realtor with loads of money.

They’re sitting close to me at the head of the table.

Max says, “How’d you get that tan so even, bro?”

Tyson laughs. “It’s fake, man.”

“Oh,” the golden retriever says with a frown. He chuckles. “Like, a spray tan? A booth?”

Tyson rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed. “A master technician, he calls himself. But yes. I can send you the deets.” He elbows Max and juts his chin to the other end of the table. “You think your girl wants you tanned like this?”

Max isn’t particularly pale, and I’m not sure why he’d want a darker complexion: His wife Brooklyn wears stark white makeup and looks like a busty skeleton.

Maybe she wants her man to be the opposite of her? It already seems to be that way: Max is talkative, friendly, and even though he’s a big guy, he’s a cinnamon roll at heart.

Brooklyn? She’s the only woman currently not talking to anyone else. Her arms are crossed. She looks mean—maybe she doesn’t even want to be here.

Brooklyn is staring up at the chandelier hanging over the table. It’s a huge crystal piece that looks quite gothic, and must fit her aesthetic.

I imagine she needs a good deep dicking to snap her out of her malaise.

Cale and Carinna are the only couple talking to each other, while the others make friends. Cale is the biggest man here in size, though I have him beat where it counts.

Still, he’s a hung bully, I noticed from Katie’s excursion. He’s not afraid to swing his fat meat around and gape holes.

His tall dark fashion influencer wife, Carinna, is an Eastern European gem with a thick accent, and even on this summer island, she seems to enjoy wearing her fur coats.

Granted, Brooklyn is dressed in a goth battle dress, and again looks the most out of place here.

Cale and Carinna are schmoozing, smiling at each other. I can hear Carinna’s crooning, raspy voice as she tubs on Cale’s chin and leans in to kiss him.

“Did you give that poor little pixie girl a rough fucking, my love?”

Cale grins wickedly. “Carry-fucked her into next century, babe.”

“Then the other men know not to mess with you? They know whose boss?”

I tilt my head, raising my eyebrows. I’m the boss, Carinna. You will learn that—if not tomorrow, then eventually. Certainly before this week is through.

“I’m bigger and stronger than any of these guys, babe. You don’t have to worry about a thing.” Cale leans back, studying his beautiful wife. “Are you excited to get your holes stretched as well?”

“You’re dastardly, Cale.” Carinna winks with a sultry smile. “Of course I am. But they’ll learn I might not be as easy to break as Katie was.”

Jason, the tall, lanky, nerdy software developer, leans over the table and pushes his glasses up his nose. “I think Katie wanted to be broken, Ms. Carinna.”

Cale and Carinna look at the nerdier man like he’s a fly, and they’re annoyed he’s interrupted them. Then Carinna puts on a fake smile. “We all do, my friend. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

Jason blushes, smiles, and leans back. He glances around to see who else he can talk to.

I would feel bad for the geek, but I don’t because I know he’s packing sufficient meat to make these girls squeal, and I also know he’s going to have fucked six women by the time this week is through.

Why feel sorry for him just because he’s socially awkward? He’ll get his.

Drew is chatting with Amalia to round off the dinner company. As the husband of the first girl to get taken, he has information Amalia might want.

Amalia, the utterly curvy redhead who loves wearing form-fitting dresses to show off her ample curves, eyes her man with the fake tan sitting at the end of the table, Tyson.

As she looks at her man explaining tanning booths to Max, Amalia says to Drew, “Did it hurt to see your girl getting so ravaged by so many studs, Drew?”

Drew blushes. “Definitely hurt her more.”

Amalia looks taken aback.

Drew laughs. “Just joking. No, I got to reclaim Katie once she was finished with the boys. Well, Mr. Davis and I did.”

Amalia lifts her perfectly manicured brow. “Mr. Davis partook?”

“You didn’t see the videos plastered around the resort?”

“I prefer to be surprised,” Amalia replies with a smirk. She crosses her arms under huge chest. “So, Mr. Davis, eh? How was he?”

“Hung like a horse,” Drew says with a shrug, “as you’d suspect from his demeanor.”

Amalia glances across the table at me, and I give her a smile and nod, pretending like I haven’t been listening to her.

“A silver fox daddy and he’s huge?” Amalia says out the corner of her mouth. She takes a sip from her Manhattan. “Break me off a piece of that.”

Drew says, “Well . . . I think that’s exactly what’s gonna happen once you draw the short straw, Amalia.”

“Can’t wait.”

I clear my throat and tap my glass as my waiters and waitresses come into the room holding silver trays. “Dinner is served, everyone. It’s a shame Katie has not been able to—oh, speak of the devil.”

As I’m ready to go into my dinner spiel, Katie wanders in with a slow gait. She’s slightly limping, the poor girl, from having her pussy and ass abused by so many cocks this afternoon.

Instead of her bikini, the girl has on booty shorts and a tank top. Her pixie cut hair is cleaned and washed.

She smiles shyly at the group, giving everyone a little wave as all eyes swivel to her. “Hi everyone,” she mutters, blushing like the sun.

The men grin, mostly to each other. “Hey, Katie,” a few of them say knowingly.

The girls, who spent most of today doing various outside activities and lounging at the resort’s many amenities, smile at her. Some of them look indifferent, others excited to hear all about her adventure.

Before she can get into all that, and after she sits next to her man Drew, I clear my throat to regain everyone’s attention.

“Your dinner this evening is between filet mignons and salmon. Your pick. If anyone here is vegan . . . I hope you enjoy the salad.”

Some people snicker.

Joy doesn’t, frowning, and I know I’ve got at least one of them pegged.

“Only joking,” I say, eyeing Joy directly. “I have a gluten-free, animal-free pasta available.”

The waiters set down the trays and pull back the domes, and everyone hums in appreciation. It suddenly smells amazing in the dining room, and the drinks are starting to flow. Everyone is in a good mood.

I pull out a set of five straws from my suit, clearing my throat again.

Everyone looks at me wide-eyed, as if I’m holding a set of artifacts.

“Time to determine your future, my friends,” I say with a cheery smile, “to see who is next in line for tomorrow’s hunt.”

Slowly, I go around the table and let the girls draw the straws, leaving Katie out of it since she already had her kinky-fun day.

“Damn,” I hear someone mutter. It’s Amalia, the curvy queen with the tight red dress. She nods her chin across the way to Drew. “I was hoping to get a taste of that big pretty cock of yours next.”

Drew blinks, shocked, and glances over at his wife Katie. “I thought you didn’t watch the video from today.”

“I didn’t watch Katie getting gangbanged, honey, but I’ve seen your videos. Your streams.” Amalia smiles wider.

Drew blushes brightly. “O-Oh.”

“Ugh,” I hear someone else say, and eyes move down the table.

Brooklyn tosses her short straw on the table and then crosses her arms under her big tits, frowning her black lips.

I grin.

It looks like the sullen goth princess who doesn’t want to be here is about to get the chance to open up.