by T L Swan
He retrieves his dark jeans and a light blue t-shirt, and after dressing he sits on the bed to put his shoes on. I watch him quietly.
“Do you want to come or not?” he asks.
“Will…” I hesitate.
“Will what?”
“Will they be there?”
He nods as he ties a shoe.
“Oh.” I pause. “Probably not then.”
“They won’t hurt you.” My eyes search his. “I will be there.” He replies.
I stay still, I don’t know if I can honestly make myself leave the room. They terrify me.
He stands. “Okay, suit yourself. Stay here.”
Shit, I need to get to the control tower. I stand abruptly in a panic. “What would I wear?” I stammer in a fluster.
His eyes drop down at my attire of his baggy pajama bottoms and t-shirt. He frowns as if thinking. “Come with me.”
“Where? Where are we going?” I ask as I twist my hands in front of me nervously. “Is this a trick?” I whisper.
He frowns. “A trick for what?”
I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes flicker to the door. “To hand me over to them?”
He shakes his head, annoyed. “No. If I wanted to hand you over, I would just hand you over.”
My eyes hold his. Why isn’t he handing me over? I don’t understand this at all.
What are his plans for me?
“Coming or not?” he asks again.
Bloody hell, this may be my only chance to get off this ship alive. I nod quickly before I change my mind.
He opens the door and walks out into the corridor and I peer around the door jamb. My heart starts to hammer.
“You coming?” he snaps.
I tentatively follow him as he strides down the corridor towards the big room I heard the partying come from the other night. We arrive at a set of stairs and I frown at him.
“Up here.” He gestures to the stairs.
Oh my God. Where is he taking me? My heart is going to go into cardiac arrest at any moment. We get to the floor above us and he walks down the corridor and knocks on a door. My eyes widen and I take a step back. Oh no. What is he doing?
The door opens and a pretty blonde girl stands before us. “Hey, Mac.” She smiles sexily.
“Hey, Chels.” He gestures to me and her face falls. I fold my arms nervously in front of me. What’s a girl doing on this horror ship? “Have you got any clothes she can borrow?” he asks.
She looks me up and down and I shrivel on the spot. Who is this? She hesitates for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.” She opens the door and gestures for us to come in.
He grabs my hand and leads me into her room. I nervously look around as I cling tightly to his hand. There are mirrors on the wall and a fancy lace lightshade that hangs down low. A large bed. The room is feminine. Huh? Does she live on this ship? She disappears back into the bathroom and takes out her mascara and begins to apply it. “The clothes are in the wardrobe, help yourself,” she calls.
He opens the wardrobe and begins to search through drawers and pull things out as he inspects them.
Okay, what is going on here? I don’t understand this at all.
I glance into the bathroom and she is applying red lipstick. She’s wearing a tight, low-cut, black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. She’s gorgeous. She reappears from the bathroom and puts her small, gold handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you both up there.”
“Yeah, okay,” he calls after her, distracted at the task at hand.
She leaves the room and closes the door behind her.
I wait for a moment as he keeps looking at the clothes. “Who is she?” I ask.
“Chelsea,” he replies as he hands me some clothes.
“She lives on this ship?” I ask.
“Aha.”
I take the clothes he has passed to me.
“Put them on,” he demands.
I frown. I’m not getting dressed here in front of him.
He rolls his eyes. “In the bathroom.”
“Oh. Okay,” I whisper. I disappear into the bathroom and put on the clothes he has selected for me. A short, pink and purple tartan skirt with a dropped waist and box pleats, and a white flowing singlet with shoestring straps. I need a bra. I stick my head around the corner of the bathroom door and he looks up from his sitting positon on the bed. “Umm.”
“Umm, what?”
“I need some underwear,” I whisper through embarrassment.
He raises an eyebrow and tries to hide his smirk. He stands and rustles through a drawer and passes me a pair of panties. “You won’t fit her bra.” He smirks.
I stare at him blankly.
“She has big tits.”
“Oh.” Oh God, how embarrassing. I walk back into the bathroom, closing the door behind me to put on the white lace panties. I glance at myself in the mirror and cringe. I look like shit. I have a black eye and a small cut on the bridge of my nose. What must I have looked like four days ago when this first happened? I grab some concealer from her makeup bag and try to fix my face a little. I brush my long dark hair, which is frizzing to oblivion from his shitty shampoo, and I grab a hair band and tie it back into a high ponytail.
I walk back out into the room and his eyes drop to my feet and back up to my face, a trace of a smile crosses his face.
I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction.
His dark eyes slowly undress me.
He stands abruptly and steps forward, bringing him way too close. “You look edible,” he whispers as his huge frame invades my space.
I step back without thinking, our eyes locked on each other. My eyes drop to his tongue as it darts out to lick his bottom lip.
The hunter and his prey.
The electricity zaps between us.
“Do you want to stay alive pretty girl?” he asks as he dusts the backs of his fingers down my face.
I nod subtly. My eyes drop to the floor as his breathing becomes magnified. His fingers burn my skin.
“We need to show the crew who you belong to,” he whispers.
My eyes meet his and I frown. What is he talking about? The primal urge to kick him in the balls is overwhelming, but I know to stay alive I need him on my side.
He bends and puts his mouth to my ear and his breath causes goosebumps to scatter up my spine. I close my eyes in dismay. Damn it.
“I need to show my crewmates who you belong to.” His breath dusts my neck and I get a tingle all the way to my toes.
My horrified eyes meet his.
“Let’s see how good an actress you are,” he whispers darkly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you want to survive, you need to play along.”
“Play along?” I frown.
“Play along that you’re mine,” he murmurs, distracted, his eyes following his fingers as he brushes them over my lips. “Pretend that you like me touching you.” His fingertips run down the length of my neck and I close my eyes. “Although you wouldn’t have to act much.” He leans in and gently kisses my ear. “Would you?” he whispers.
I drop my head in dismay, knowing I need to change the subject or I’m going to be on my back on that bed in one second flat.
He rubs his hand through my long ponytail and down over my breast.
My eyes rise to meet his and disgust fills me as I feel my nipples harden under his touch.
In seemingly slow motion he leans in and whispers in my ear. “You like my touch.” His breath on my neck sends goosebumps scattering down my spine again.
I shake my head nervously. “No, I… I don’t.” I stammer.
He rolls my nipple between his large fingers and it hardens even further.
Oh God.
“Yes, you do.” He growls before sinking his teeth into my ear.
“No,” I breathe as my knees feel like they might collapse beneath me.
“Liar,” he whispers as he licks my ear again.
Dear, God.
&nb
sp; I close my eyes. “Please,” I hesitate as I try to think. “Please, leave me be.”
He grabs my jaw aggressively and pulls my face so that our eyes meet.
My fight instincts start to fire up but I try desperately to control them. Control it I remind myself. “Please,” I whisper.
His eyes drop to my lips and he smiles sardonically. “For now.” An uneasy feeling washes over me. I’m disturbed by the way my body reacts to him, the way my heart races when he looks at me. His touch is electric.
As if reading my mind, he smiles sexily and takes my hand and pulls me with him out the door.
* * *
We walk into the large, messy hall and I see everyone’s eyes lift as they see us. I feel sick. What the hell am I doing here? He towers above me and holds my hand in his. I glance around the room. To the right is a big kitchen where a male chef is cooking. In front are six tables and chairs where some people are eating. To the left is a super large plasma television. Lounges are in front of that and scattered in no particular order. At the back is a bar with a pool table and a table tennis table. The room is huge and nice… not at all what I was expecting. In fact, this whole ship isn’t what I was expecting. I thought container ships were supposed to be dirty and unkempt? I stand nervously as I await his instruction and he walks us over to the kitchen.
“Just two?” the chef calls.
I stare at the chef. Is he in on this? Will he help me?
“Thanks,” Mac replies.
He then leads me by the hand to the back bar and another man smiles from behind it. I step back when I see him. He is one of the men from the other night.
Mac feels my fear and puts his arm protectively around my shoulders.
I drop my eyes to the floor as I try to concentrate on the task at hand.
“What do you want to drink?” Mac asks.
“Diet Coke,” I reply without emotion.
I glance over to the pool table where I see six girls in sexy clothing playing. I frown. More girls… Oh, thank God. They will help me. I just need to talk to them alone. Mac tightens his grip around my shoulders. I glance around the room and see approximately fifteen men. Some I recognize, some I don’t. None of them are at all surprised to see me here. They all know I am taken and they don’t care.
What fucking kind of ship is this?
He gets our drinks and takes them over to the dining table area and pulls a chair out for me. I sit down. I can feel the eyes on my back. He sits down opposite me and picks up his Coke.
“You’re drinking Coke?” I ask. Every night this week he has come back to the room smelling of beer or Scotch. Why is tonight different?
“I’m on call tonight,” he replies.
“Oh.” I frown. I forget this is actually a job.
My eyes roam to the girls playing pool and I can see them looking over and talking to each other. What are they saying? Are they going to help me?
“Who are the girls?” I ask.
He sips his drink as he seems to contemplate giving me the answer. “The crew’s girls.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He sips his drink again.
“Are they the wives of some of the men?” I ask.
He smirks as his eyes hold mine. “They are the whores of all of the men.”
Horror dawns.
I lean forward. “Prostitutes?” I whisper in mortification.
He raises an eyebrow. “We are a long time at sea.”
I sit back in disgust. I have no words. I glance over at them again. “So you all just fuck whoever you want?”
He smirks.
“The girls sleep with all of you?” I frown.
“They have fun and are well looked after.” He shrugs.
Fear fills me. “Were they taken? Is that the plan for me?” I whisper in a panic.
He frowns. “No.” He shakes his head. “They come and go as they like. We always have six, but the girls change at different ports.”
I sit back in my chair. I can’t get my head around this type of lifestyle.
“They all have their own shit they are trying to escape. This boat is their safe place. Most do a few trips a year. They rotate.”
The chef brings out two plates of a beef and vegetable stew with mashed potatoes and vegetables, leaving us to eat in silence, although my mind is in overdrive at the lives those women must live. We eat and then have dessert, and I have to admit the food is much better when hot.
A man comes and sits next to Mac and they begin to talk. My mind starts to buzz and I look around at the exits. How do I get to the control tower from here? My heartbeat rises as I imagine the scenario of getting caught. To the right is a bathroom and then the main door is where we came from. If I go back that way, it’s about one hundred meters down the hall, then up the stairs and then back another hundred meters to the other end. By my calculations we are closer to the control tower from here. Where is the door? I keep looking around casually. Bloody hell, it’s so confusing. I pull my chair out.
“Where are you going?” he snaps.
“I…” I hesitate. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
His knowing eyes hold mine.
Shit.
“I will show you where it is,” he says.
“Thank you,” I reply. Damn it.
He takes my hand and walks me over to the bathroom and then follows me in.
I frown. “It’s okay. I can go to the bathroom on my own.”
He has a quick look around before he walks back out. He was checking nobody was in here with me. I go to the bathroom and exit to find him sitting on a barstool at the bar. He holds out his hand for me to join him. Bloody hell, why is he watching me like a hawk? I slowly walk over. He positions me between his legs and he snakes his arms around my waist as he talks to another man I haven’t seen before.
I keep searching for an exit over his shoulder. “What do you want to drink?” he asks.
I glance up at all the alcohol.
“She will have a Scotch and Coke, please,” Mac says before waiting for my answer.
I frown. “No, I won’t. I don’t like Scotch,” I reply.
“But I do and I want to kiss you.”
My brain misfires. Huh?
The man he is talking to smirks. “Catch you later, man.” He gets up and leaves.
The barman leaves to make my drink.
He slips his hand underneath the band of my skirt and rubs down my stomach, his fingers skim my pubic hair before he kisses my ear from behind. “You feel good,” he whispers.
Crap, crap, crap.
I have to get out of here. I turn and lean into his ear and whisper. “What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I’m showing them you’re mine,” he whispers back into my ear as he bites it. “This is where you show them you like it.”
“By running your fingers through my pubic hair?” I whisper angrily.
He smiles into my neck. “Yes, exactly. You are getting the hang of it. You need to play along.”
“Nobody even cares,” I whisper angrily into his ear.
He licks my neck in an upstroke and cold chills cover my body. Why does he have to affect me like this? “Everybody in this room is watching. If you are not mine, they will assume you are theirs,” he whispers.
I pull back and my scared eyes hold his.
“Kiss me,” he whispers darkly.
“W-what?” I stammer in fear.
He pulls my face toward him and his lips gently dust mine.
Oh God.
His tongue slowly enters my mouth and, unable to help it, my eyes close. His tongue delves deeper and deeper and I lose all sense of reality. His arm tightens around my waist and he pulls me closer to him. My breasts are squashed up against his chest and his hand is crushing me to him. Oh hell, I’ve never been kissed like this. I feel his large erection up against my thigh and my insides start to melt.
Reality sets in and I pull away. What the hell am I doing? “I just lost my fuc
king appetite. I’m going back to the room.”
“I’m not ready to go back yet,” he snaps, angry that I stopped his kiss.
“I didn’t ask you to come.” I sneer.
“If you are not with me—”
I cut him off. “I’m not with you. Get it through your fucking head.” I pull out of his grip and storm back to the room alone as everyone in the room watches. I will take my chances with the others. I am not standing there and making out with that fucking asshole.
I storm back to the room with him hot on my heels.
I’m angry, fucking furious with myself, actually.
He opens the door and pushes me in as he stays in the corridor and without a word locks the door behind me.
4
Reality hits hard when I hear the cold click of the door as he leaves. I walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower, undress, and slowly get in as the tears begin to fall. I grab the soap and rub my skin in a panic. I wash and wash and wash until my skin is red raw. I need to get this dirty, slutty feeling off me.
He knows, too. He knows I enjoyed that kiss. He felt it.
In that moment, he owned me.
* * *
I lie in the darkness with my back toward the door when he comes in five hours later. The room is silent and heavy from my tears. I have cried a river tonight.
Not because I am the victim in this shitty circumstance, but because I was a willing participant.
I kissed him without a fight. I gave in to my lust.
Something that I vowed I would never do. I’m as bad as Melissa when she gave in to her lust. Her body led her to temptation.
He comes in and puts his keys on the desk and I can feel his eyes watching me in the darkness. After a moment he walks into the bathroom and I hear the shower turn on. My heart is beating so fast and I know he will be washing himself for what’s to come. Oh God, no. I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.
The shower turns off and a few minutes later he crawls naked into bed next to me. I scrunch my eyes shut and pretend to sleep.
He lies on his back for a few moments and I stay silent. …. can he tell that I’m awake?
He blows out a heavy breath and then rolls so his back is to me. I frown.
What’s he doing?