Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies

by Claire Thompson

  Mara startled awake with a cry at the soft touch of something moving over her cheek, the word tarantula skittering like a spider through her dream-soaked mind.

  But it wasn’t a spider that greeted her as her eyes flew open. Alex was crouched before her, his hand on her cheek, his face a mask of tenderness and concern. “Wake up.”

  Not yet fully awake, Mara jerked upright, knocking the back of her head against the wall. Bright sunlight streamed in through the open door of the hut and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the daylight. The room tilted unpleasantly, her empty stomach executing a nauseating somersault. She moaned through cracked lips and cradled her torso, rocking forward.

  “Hey, take it easy. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to take you out of the box now. Your punishment is over.”

  Getting to his feet, Alex reached down and pulled Mara upright. She stood a moment on wobbly legs. They seemed to be made of rubber, and she started to sink to the floor, her head spinning. The room was hot and sweat had broken out on her face and body, its salt pricking the welts that covered her flesh. Her mouth tasted like vomit and she could smell her own stink.

  Alex caught her as she fell, lifting her with apparent effortlessness into his arms. He carried her through the door of the box and out into the sunshine. There was a wonderful cool breeze blowing off the water and the air was fresh, so fresh, after the fetid closeness of the tiny, windowless hut. Closing her eyes, Mara lifted her face and breathed deeply.

  Alex set her gently into the passenger seat of the golf cart and walked around to the driver’s side. Reaching into a cooler that sat between them, he withdrew a small bottle of water, its plastic sides slick with droplets of cold water. Mara watched with quivering anticipation as he unscrewed the cap. He handed the bottle to her.

  She took it with shaking hands and tipped it to her cracked lips, greedily gulping down the few ounces. “Hey, slow down,” Alex warned. “You’re going to make yourself throw up if you aren’t careful. Sip, don’t gulp.”

  Mara knew he was right, but she was too thirsty to obey. Within seconds the bottle was empty. Her stomach heaved a little at the sudden onslaught of cold fluid, but it was worth it. Alex reached into the cooler again and took out a second bottle. “More?”

  Mara’s hand shot out to take it.

  Alex pulled the bottle just out of her reach. “Manners?” he queried with a lift of his eyebrows.

  “Yes, please. Yes, sir,” Mara said in rapid fire. For a tantalizing second he continued to hold the bottle just out of reach. Then, with a smile, he unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

  Mara managed to sip this one as Alex pulled away from the hut and drove along the paths. When he came to the turn for the girls’ quarters, he surprised her by continuing onward. Mara’s heart sank—she had so been looking forward to a long, hot soak in the tub and then the cool, soft sheets on her bed. He’d said the punishment was over, but apparently he wasn’t done with her.

  She sank back against the warm leather of the golf cart, too exhausted to think. Now that the worst of her thirst was slaked, her stomach, which hadn’t had food since the prior morning’s breakfast, twisted in furious protest.

  Alex drove past the bungalow where the two Wallace men stayed when they were on the island. He drew the cart to a halt alongside a smaller structure, built as the others of white stucco and red-tiled roofing. Climbing out of the driver’s seat, Alex came around and gently helped Mara from the cart, placing a supporting arm around her waist as he led her to the front door of the bungalow. He tapped in his code to release the lock and opened the door, gesturing for Mara to precede him.

  She entered a cool, airy space, sparsely furnished in a decidedly masculine fashion, with streamlined leather furniture, tables of chrome and glass, the color palette of muted grays and blues. “Welcome to my home. This will be your home as well while I help you to refocus on your goals.”

  Mara stood uncertainly just inside the door as Alex closed and locked it. Her stomach rumbled audibly and Alex turned to her with a smile. “Hungry?”

  She was too weak to even take silent offense at the obviousness of his stupid question. She only nodded, remembering at the last moment to add, “Yes, sir.”

  “I will feed you. But first I will bathe you. You reek.” He wrinkled his nose with distaste. Mara flushed with embarrassment, even though he was the one directly responsible for her filthy, disheveled state.

  He led her into a large bathroom just off the master bedroom, where a king-size bed loomed invitingly, covered in a pale gray silk coverlet. As the sweat evaporated on her skin, she began to shiver while Alex filled the large sunken tub with steaming water. She felt dizzy again, and moved toward the wall to lean against it as she waited.

  From that angle she could see herself in the mirror over the sink. Her face was haggard and drawn, dark circles beneath her eyes. Her body was covered in dark red welts of varying lengths, the skin bruised beneath. She turned away from the image with a shocked inhalation of breath. Tears blurred her vision.

  Alex turned to her, beckoning with a finger. “Climb in.” She moved unsteadily toward him, blinking back the tears. He stepped to meet her, placing a supportive hand on her arm as he helped her into the steaming water.

  Mara settled carefully against the porcelain, adjusting herself as best she could to avoid contact with the worst of the welts on her ass. The water was soothing, a scented bath oil filling her nostrils. She sighed with pleasure as the water enveloped her body. Leaning back, she closed her eyes.

  After a moment, Alex said, “Get your hair wet. I’m going to wash it for you.”

  Mara opened her eyes. Alex was holding a bottle of shampoo, an expectant look on his face. Mara slid down, dipping the back of her head into the water to wet her hair. She sat up again, watching as Alex squeezed a dollop of shampoo onto his palm. He massaged it into her itchy, sweat-soaked scalp. He worked with gentle efficiency, the effect soothing.

  He brought the rest of her hair up onto the top of her head and pulled the sudsy shampoo through the ends. “Rinse. Then we’ll do it again.” Mara lowered her head once more, letting her hair swirl out into the water around her head. After a moment, she lifted her head and Alex repeated the process. This time, he used a large plastic cup to rinse her hair, which he filled with fresh water from the tap, pouring it again and again over Mara’s head, the water cascading down her face and back.

  Reaching his arm into the water, he pulled the tub’s plug, allowing the bath to drain until Mara lay shivering in the empty tub. “Now, I’ll wash your body,” he announced. Replacing the plug, he turned on the faucet again. As the tub began to refill, he added more of the sweet-smelling bath oil. He held the washcloth beneath the tap until it was wet. Wringing it out, he took a bar of soap from a little dish on the side of the tub and rubbed it onto the washcloth until it foamed and bubbled.

  He washed her face first, his touch gentle as he stroked her cheeks with the warm cloth. Dipping it into the water, he washed away the residual soap on her face. Holding the cloth beneath the tap once more, he ran it gently along her throat and chest. Mara winced as the cloth moved over her welted breasts.

  “You took quite a beating,” he murmured sympathetically, as if he weren’t the one who had done the damage.

  Slowly, carefully, he washed every inch of her body, making her spread her legs and arch her hips as he washed her sex, directing her to turn over onto her hands and knees as he washed her back and ass. She wanted to hate him—she did hate him for what he had done to her and everything he was, and yet—and yet she couldn’t quite muster the rage she knew lurked somewhere inside her. He was being so kind, so careful. Through it all, his touch was gentle, almost maternal, his words soothing.

  Finally, he emptied and filled the tub a third time, this time allowing Mara to lean back and luxuriate in the soothing heat. “Just relax. I’ll be right back.”

  Mara leaned back and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift lazily o
ver nothing. She must have fallen into a light doze because she startled awake at Alex’s return. As she did, she became aware of the tantalizing scent of frying bacon and brewing coffee, and her stomach leaped awake once more with a vengeance.

  Alex held out a towel and Mara pushed herself carefully to her feet. Alex reached for her arm. “Let me help you,” he said solicitously. “There’s a good girl.” As she stepped from the tub, he wrapped her in the big, soft towel. He wouldn’t allow her to dry herself, instead doing it himself.

  Reaching into a drawer beside the sink, he removed a tube of salve Mara recognized from aftercare sessions. “Stand with your arms raised over your head while I treat your welts. We don’t want any scarring.”

  Mara assumed the required position, though her arms soon began to tremble with fatigue, weak and hungry as she was. The salve was soothing as he daubed it gently over her body and she knew from experience it would help with the healing. When he was done, he combed back Mara’s wet hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears.

  Replacing the comb in the drawer, he turned back toward her, something else in his hand. “This is your training collar. You will wear it for the duration of your reconditioning.” The black leather collar was wide, perhaps two inches in height, with O-rings spaced at intervals along the band. Mara stood passively as he secured it around her neck. He buckled it snugly into place.

  “It’s a lovely morning. We’ll eat out on the veranda.”

  Mara’s mouth filled with saliva at the prospect of food and she took a step forward. Alex stopped her with hand on her shoulder. He pushed, gently but firmly, forcing her to her knees. “Remember what I said to you in the box? You are beginning from ground zero. Until you have redeemed yourself, you will be known as zero. Zeroes don’t deserve to walk upright. Zeroes are less than animals. When I allow you to move at all, it will be on your hands and knees.”

  He turned and walked out of the bathroom. Mara remained where she was, stunned at the man’s words. Zero! How dare he? She was Mara Stevens, no matter what he chose to call her. Less than animals. When I allow you to move at all… Mara shuddered with dread as these words reverberated in her mind. She was alone with this madman—no Dawn, no other girls to talk to, no one to protect or save her from his sadistic control. At least before she’d had company, companionship, a soft bed, plenty of good food. Why had she ever thought that idiot Gordon would believe her? Why had she taken such a stupid, stupid risk?

  The aroma of the waiting food distracted her from her whirling thoughts. Feeling both foolish and frightened, but almost too hungry to care, she crawled quickly after him.

  They moved through the living room to the glass doors that faced the ocean, Mara making slow progress across the tiled floor as Alex strode ahead of her. The sliding doors were open and she could see that plates and cups were already set on the outdoor table. She scrabbled more quickly on her hands and knees, desperate for the promised food.

  She crawled awkwardly over the low metal threshold to the veranda. She started to lift herself to her feet, eager to take a seat at the table, where two plates sat already piled with scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits.

  “Did I tell you to rise?” Alex’s voice stopped her. He was glaring down at her with those cold green eyes. “Answer me when I speak to you.”

  Mara bit back a sigh. “No, sir.”

  “You will stay as you are, on the ground where you belong. You haven’t earned the right to sit on the furniture. You are zero; you are nothing. You will kneel up and place your hands behind your back. I will feed you when I am ready.”

  At least she was going to eat. Her eyes focused on the plate of food, she leaned back on her haunches and then knelt up, back straight, hands behind her back. Alex sat on the other side of the small table in front of the second plate of food. He reached for the carafe that sat near his mug and poured a stream of steaming coffee into the cup. Without looking at her, he added cream from a small pitcher and lifted the mug to his lips to sip. Setting it down, he placed his napkin in his lap and picked up his fork.

  Mara watched in impatient agony as he brought a large bite of eggs to his mouth. He chewed slowly and then selected a piece of bacon, folding the entire piece into his mouth.

  Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard. Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. Nearly fainting with hunger, Mara whimpered.

  He shot her a glance. “Zero, mind yourself,” he snapped. “A proper submissive is patient. She waits to do her Master’s bidding. You don’t want to go back to the box, do you?”

  The question had to be rhetorical. In any event, she didn’t reply, afraid if she opened her mouth, she would howl with rage. She wanted to close her eyes, to allow herself to drift to her peaceful place on the ocean, but she couldn’t look away as he buttered his biscuit and took a bite. She wanted to leap up and shove him hard so his chair toppled backward, taking him with it. Instead she watched with rapt, canine attention, tears of frustration rolling down her cheeks as he ate bite after bite of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and flaky biscuit dripping with butter, washing it down with sips of hot, fragrant coffee and big gulps of orange juice.

  Finally his plate was empty. Wiping his mouth with his napkin, he turned to regard her. “Would you like a little breakfast, zero?”

  Would you like me to smash your skull in, fuckface?

  No, she warned herself sternly. Don’t think angry thoughts. They’ll show on your face and he’ll punish you. She focused instead on the promised food. A fresh gush of anticipatory saliva pooled in her mouth. “Yes, please, sir.”

  Pushing back his chair, Alex stood and moved to the second chair. He sat and angled his body toward Mara, who waited like a dog on the ground beside him. He scooped a small mound of eggs onto a fork and held it to her mouth. Mara opened, eager as a baby bird as he placed the food on her tongue.

  The eggs were cold but she didn’t care. They tasted like a burst of buttery heaven. He held out half a piece of bacon, which crunched with salty perfection against her teeth. The biscuit was as flaky and delicious as it looked. The orange juice was fresh-squeezed and nothing had ever tasted sweeter to her. He allowed her to eat everything on the plate, along with the full glass of juice and sips of hot, delicious coffee.

  She could have eaten a second helping of everything, but Alex wasn’t offering. Still, she was grateful for what he’d given her, and also aware if she ate more she would end up feeling sick.

  Alex was watching her, his face curving downward in a frown. “You’ve been bathed and fed. You will sleep again soon. But first, zero, we need to talk about what you did, and what specific corrective actions will be taken. The first step to atonement is to admit your wrongdoing. I want you to tell me what you did wrong.”

  I believed that bitch, Hillary Wallace, that’s what I did wrong.

  Aloud, Mara forced herself to say, “I, I told the guest I wasn’t here voluntarily.”

  “More detail. What precisely did you say?”

  Mara swallowed hard, trying to recall her exact words. “Um, that I had been kidnapped. That I was here against my will and they—you—would kill me if I tried to escape.” The food she’d just enjoyed lay like a lump of lead in her belly and fear sweat pricked under her arms.

  Alex shook his head slowly. “But it’s not true, is it, zero?”

  Mara looked at him in confusion. “No, I swear. That’s what I said. I—”

  “No,” Alex interrupted. “It’s not true that you’re here involuntarily. You want to be here. You might have felt otherwise at first, but now you understand this is your place, your fate. You exist to serve, to suffer, to please and to obey. You are a cunt. You are a piece of ass. You are property.”

  Mara bit her lip, her mouth going dry, her heart fluttering with confused fear. What the hell was he saying?

  “Repeat after me, zero: I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.” He was glaring at her. He raised his hand as if about
to strike her.

  Quickly, Mara tried to recite the hateful words. “I exist to serve, to suffer, to…”

  “To please and obey,” Alex prompted. “Go on. Say it. All of it.”

  “To please and obey,” Mara parroted. “I am, I… I can’t remember what you said.”

  Alex struck her then, a hard backhand to her face that knocked her back onto her heels. With a cry, she brought her hand to her stinging cheek.

  “Kneel up, hands behind your back,” Alex shouted.

  Quickly, Mara struggled into position.

  “Repeat after me,” he said in a hard voice. “And pay attention this time. This is your mantra. You will say it again and again and again, until you learn not only the words, but the truth behind them. ‘I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.’”

  “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey,” Mara said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

  “Louder,” Alex barked. “Go on.”

  “I am a, a cunt,” Mara winced, forcing herself to speak louder, “a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.”

  “That’s correct. Say it again.”

  Mara repeated the hateful words, forcing them past the lump of fear that had risen in her throat.

  “Again.”

  Again she said the words, telling herself they had no meaning. They were just syllables, sounds she was forced to utter, with no connection to herself.

  “This time get on your feet. Stand at attention. I want you to shout the words so anyone within hearing range will know what you are, zero.”

  Tears blinding her vision, Mara rose to her feet. “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey,” she shouted, her face blazing. “I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.”

  “Louder.”

  Crying now, Mara yelled the words.

  Alex nodded with a look of grim satisfaction. “That’s correct. You are a cunt and a piece of ass. You are property, zero. I sense the insincerity in your tone, but that will change. I promise you, that will change. You will come to embrace the words you say. You will take them into your heart and your bones. You will learn that you belong to this island and, more specifically, to me. Together we will wipe those evil toxins of resistance from your mind and body. I will purge you with daily training and conditioning. I will scour you clean of self-will and disobedience. For now, let’s begin with the first part of the declaration. Specifically that you exist to serve and to suffer. I want you to suffer now. I want you to ask for it. Ask me now, zero. Ask me to slap you across the face.”