You arrive at the hotel

Paul sat in the back of the cab with Naomi holding his hand tight, gripping it. It was obvious she was worried by this **** business as she looked into his eyes for comfort, protection maybe.

"Don't worry," he whispered into her ear. "As soon as we get to the room, I'll take the collar off."

"I don't want to wear this stupid thing all week," she whispered back. "How am I supposed to get a tan?"

"We'll figure something out." He sighed, knowing there was nothing he'd be able to figure out. She had to wear it whenever she was out of the room, otherwise she'd be arrested by the disobedience police. "Maybe there's a special rule for sunbathing."

"I hope so." She crossed her arms

She was even more concerned when the cab driver talked about how the island works, and that you can either pay for things with cash, or have your **** work… or perform sexual favours. Paul's knuckles turned white at that point and Naomi leaned in. He put an arm around her to comfort her.

He was worried about what Naomi might be put through if other people treated her as a ****, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel a little aroused at what he could make her do. His cock hardened a little in his pants, and he placed a hand over it so Naomi couldn’t see, though it looked like she already had.

They arrived at the hotel, and the driver looked eagerly at Naomi, licking his lips as he tried to look down her top. He looked like he was in his forties, with a black bird’s nest of hair. “So how will you be paying? It's $49.”

“Cash,” Paul replied abruptly. He handed $50 over and scowled at the driver as he continued to ogle Naomi. “Keep the change.” Paul gave him one more dirty look before following Naomi into the hotel. The thought of her performing sexual favours made Paul's heart race a little, but not with some old perv like him. One of Paul's biggest fantasies was to spit roast her, not that he'd ever told Naomi. Maybe it was something she could be convinced into doing during this week though.

They entered the hotel, there was a large lounge area with expensive-looking couches near the reception. A couple of people were sitting there and talking with drinks in hand, slaves kneeling beside them on the polished floor. A man with dark hair gripped his ****'s leash tight as she knelt, hands holding her elbows behind her back. She wore a short skirt, and tape over the nipples of her large, firm breasts.

The floor was polished so shiny, you could see yourself in it. Paul couldn’t help but admire Naomi’s reflection, particularly with that black collar around her neck. He felt a little guilty at the thought of taking pleasure in her embarrassment, but at the same time, she looked hot right now. The collar let everyone know that she was his.

The walls were gold and brown, with a few tables and chairs over to the left, and a closed piano in the corner.

As he looked over at the tables, he saw a **** in a backless black and pink French maid outfit wiping them clean with a cloth, and by backless, her ass was on show, it was just tied together with a single piece of string around her back. She looked up nervously as Paul watched her work, then once she’d finished the table, she got down on all fours, polishing the floor.

“Hello there,” the receptionist said when they walked up to the desk. She was a short brunette with oak brown eyes that have a shiny gleam to them. She was wearing a black shirt and the hotel’s logo on a badge—a gold diamond.

Paul gave her the reservation details and she handed over the room key card.

“I hope you enjoy your stay,” the woman said. “Leave your **** here for now, and we’ll bring her to your room in a couple of hours.”

Naomi gulped, her cheeks turning red.

“What do you mean?” Paul asked. He felt a sense of shock floating through him, like air just gushed through his guts. If there were any more surprises in this place, Naomi would most likely be leaving him when they got home. Maybe she already would.

The receptionist smiled. “As part of your agreement to stay here, your **** must work here for two hours a day.

It was becoming apparant why this place was so cheap. He looked at Naomi and frowned when he saw her wide, furious eyes.

“But… we’re on vacation here,” he said. “I—”

“Do we have a problem?” the receptionist placed a hand on the phone, gently gripping it as though she was about to pick it up.

“No,” Naomi said, stepping forwards. “I’ll do the work.” She gave Paul a wry smile. “Go take our things to the room and unpack, I’ll be there soon.”

Paul headed up to the room, thinking about what work they might make Naomi do. He suddenly remembered the girl in the French maid outfit, and imagining Naomi in that gave him a massive erection he had to hide as someone came the opposite way down the corridor.