by Anna Zaires
I’m wet and his entry is relatively easy, though he still feels huge inside me. My inner tissues feel tender and sore from last night’s hard use, and I can’t help a slight gasp of pain at the invasion. When he’s in fully, his groin presses against my burning bottom, adding to the discomfort.
Grasping my hips, he begins to move in and out, slowly and rhythmically. Despite the initial pain, my body appears to like the feeling of fullness, of being stretched, and responds by producing even more lubrication. As his pace picks up, my breathing accelerates and helpless moans escape my throat each time he pushes deeply into me.
Suddenly, with no warning, my muscles tighten as my senses reach fever-pitch. The release ripples through me, the pleasure stunning in its intensity. Behind me, I can hear his groan as my climax provokes his own—and feel the warm spurt of his seed inside me.
And then we both collapse on the bed, his body heavy and slick with perspiration on top of mine.
Chapter 9
I wake up slowly, in stages. First, I feel the tickling sensation of my hair on my face. Then the warmth of the sun on my uncovered arm. For a moment, my mind is floating in that soft, comfortable limbo between sleep and wakefulness, between dreams and reality.
I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to wake fully, because this is so nice.
Then I realize I can smell pancakes cooking in the kitchen.
My lips curl in a smile. It’s the weekend, and my mom decided to spoil us again. She makes pancakes on special occasions and sometimes just because.
The hair tickles me again, and I reluctantly move my arm to push it off my face.
I’m more awake now, and the warm feeling inside me dissipates, replaced by harsh, gnawing fear.
No, please let it all be a dream. Please let it all be a bad dream.
I open my eyes.
It’s not a dream. I can still smell the pancakes, but there’s no way it could be my mom cooking them.
I’m on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, held captive by a man who derives pleasure from hurting me.
I stretch carefully, taking stock of my body. Other than a slight tenderness in my bottom, I seem to be mostly fine. He had only taken me once last night, for which I am grateful.
Getting up, I walk naked to the mirror and look at my back. There are faint bruises on my buttocks, but nothing major. That’s one of the benefits of my golden-tinted skin—I don’t bruise easily. By tomorrow, it should look completely normal.
All in all, I seem to have survived another night in my captor’s bed.
As I brush my teeth, I think back to last evening. The dinner, my silly plan to seduce him, my feeling of betrayal at his actions . . .
I can’t believe I had begun to trust him even a tiny bit. Normal men don’t kidnap girls from the park. They don’t drug them and bring them to a private island. Men who like normal, consensual sex don’t keep women captive.
No, Julian is not normal. He’s a sadistic control freak, and I can never forget it. The fact that he hasn’t hurt me badly yet doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a matter of time before he does something truly awful to me.
I need to escape before that happens, and I can’t take my sweet time seducing Julian. He’s far too dangerous and unpredictable.
I need to find a way off this island.
* * *
After I take a quick shower and brush my teeth, I go downstairs for breakfast. Beth must’ve already been in my room because there is another fresh set of clothes laid out. A swimsuit, flip-flops, and another sundress.
Beth herself is in the kitchen, and so are the pancakes I’d smelled earlier.
At my entrance, she smiles at me, yesterday’s tension apparently forgotten. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”
I give her an incredulous look. Does she know what Julian did to me? “Oh, just great,” I say sarcastically.
“That’s good.” She seems oblivious to my tone. “Julian was afraid you might be a bit sore this morning, so he left me a special cream to give you just in case.”
She does know.
“How do you live with yourself?” I ask, genuinely curious. How can a woman stand by and watch another woman being abused like this? How can she work for this cruel man?
Instead of answering, Beth places a large, fluffy pancake on a plate and brings it to me. There is also sliced mango on the table, right next to a bottle of maple syrup.
“Eat, Nora,” she says, not unkindly.
I give her a bitter look and dig into the pancake. It’s delicious. I think she added bananas to the batter because I can taste their sweetness. I don’t even need the maple syrup, although I do add a few slices of mango for additional flavor.
Beth smiles again, and goes back to doing various kitchen chores.
After breakfast, I leave the house and explore the island on my own. Beth doesn’t stop me. I still find it shocking that they’re letting me wander around like this. They must be completely confident there is no way off the island.
Well, I intend to find a way.
I walk tirelessly for hours in the hot sun, until the flip-flops I’m wearing give me a blister. I stick close to the beach, hoping to find a boat tied somewhere, maybe in a cave or a lagoon.
But I find nothing.
How did I get here? Was it by plane or helicopter? Julian did mention yesterday that he had originally discovered this place while flying a plane. Maybe that’s how he brought me here, via a private plane?
That would not be good. Even if I found the plane sitting somewhere, how would I fly it? I imagine it must be at least somewhat complicated.
Then again, with sufficient incentive, I might be able to figure it out. I’m not stupid, and flying a plane is not rocket science.
But I don’t find the plane either. There is a flat grassy area on the other side of the island with a structure at the end of it, but there’s nothing inside the structure. It’s completely empty.
Tired, thirsty, and with the blister beginning to bother me more with each step, I head back to the house.
* * *
“Julian left a couple of hours ago,” Beth tells me as soon as I walk in.
Stunned, I stare at her. “What do you mean, he left?”
“He had some urgent business to take care of. If all goes well, he should be back within a week.”
I nod, trying to keep a neutral expression, and go upstairs to my room.
He’s gone! My tormentor is gone!
It’s just Beth and me on this island. No one else.
My mind is whirling with possibilities. I can steal one of the kitchen knives and threaten Beth until she shows me a way off the island. There’s probably internet here, and I might be able to reach out to the outside world.
I’m so excited I could scream.
Do they truly think I’m that harmless? Did my meek behavior thus far lull them into thinking I would continue to be a nice, obedient captive?
Well, they couldn’t be more mistaken.
Julian is the one I’m afraid of, not Beth. With the two of them on this island, attacking Beth would’ve been pointless and dangerous.
Now, however, she’s fair game.
* * *
An hour later, I quietly sneak into the kitchen. As I had expected, Beth is not there. It’s too early to prepare dinner and too late for lunch.
My feet are bare, to minimize any sound. Cautiously looking around, I slide open one of the drawers and take out a large butcher knife. Testing it with my finger, I determine that it’s sharp.
A weapon. Perfect.
The sundress that I’m wearing has a slim belt at the waist, and I use it to tie the knife to myself at the back. It’s a very crude holster, but it holds the knife in place. I hope I don’t cut my butt with the naked blade, but even if I do, it’s a risk worth taking.
A large ceramic vase is my next acquisition. It’s heavy enough that I can barely lift it over my head with two arms. I can’t imagine a human skull wou
ld be a match for something like this.
Once I have those two things, I go look for Beth.
I find her on the porch, curled up with a book on a long, comfy-looking outdoor couch, enjoying the fresh air and the beautiful ocean view. She doesn’t look when I poke my head outside through the open door, and I quickly go back in, trying to figure out what to do next.
My plan is simple. I need to catch Beth off-guard and bash her over the head with the vase. Maybe tie her up with something. Then I could use the knife to threaten her into letting me contact the outside world. This way, by the time Julian returns, I could already be rescued and pressing charges.
All I need now is a good spot for my ambush.
Looking around, I notice a little nook near the kitchen entrance. If you’re coming in off the porch—like I think Beth will be—then you don’t really see anything in that nook. It’s not the best place to conceal oneself, but it’s better than attacking her openly. I go there and press myself flat against the wall, the vase standing on the floor next to me where I can easily grab it.
Taking a deep breath, I try to still the fine trembling in my hands. I’m not a violent person, yet here I am, about to smash this vase into Beth’s head. I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t help picturing her skull split open, blood and gore everywhere, like in some horror movie. The image makes me ill. I tell myself that it won’t be like that, that she’ll most likely end up with a nasty bruise or a mild concussion.
The wait seems interminable. It goes on and on, each second stretching like an hour. My heart is pounding and I’m sweating, even though the temperature in the house is much cooler than the heat outside.
Finally, after what feels like several hours, I hear Beth’s footsteps. Grabbing the vase, I carefully lift it over my head and hold my breath as Beth steps through the open door leading from the porch.
As she walks by me, I grip the vase tightly and bring it down on her head.
And somehow I miss. At the last moment, Beth must’ve heard me move because the vase hits her on the shoulder instead.
She cries out in pain, clutching her shoulder. “You fucking bitch!”
I gasp and try to lift the vase again, but it’s too late. She grabs for the vase, and it falls down, breaking into a dozen pieces between us.
I jump back, my right hand frantically scrambling for the knife. Shit, shit, shit. I manage to grab the handle and pull it out, but before I can do anything, she grabs my arm, moving as quickly as a snake. Her grip is like a steel band around my right wrist.
Her face is flushed and her eyes are glittering as she twists my arm painfully backward. “Drop the knife, Nora,” she orders harshly, her voice filled with fury.
Panicking, I try to hit her in the face with my other hand, but she catches that arm too. She clearly knows how to fight—and she’s also obviously stronger than me.
My right arm is screaming in pain, but I try to kick at her. I can’t lose this fight. This is my best chance at escape.
My feet make contact with her legs, but I’m not wearing shoes and I do more damage to my toes than to her shins.
“Drop the knife, Nora, or I will break your arm,” she hisses, and I know that she’s telling the truth. My shoulder feels like it’s about to pop out of its socket, and my vision darkens as waves of pain radiate down my arm.
I hold out for one more second, and then my fingers release the knife. It falls to the floor with a loud thunk.
Beth immediately lets me go and bends down to pick it up.
I back away, breathing harshly, tears of pain and frustration burning in my eyes. I don’t know what she’s going to do to me now, and I don’t want to find out.
So I run.
* * *
I am fast on my feet and in good shape. I can hear Beth chasing after me, calling my name, but I doubt she’s ever done track before.
I run out of the house and down to the beach. Rocks, twigs, and gravel dig into my feet, but I barely feel them.
I don’t know where I’m running, but I can’t let Beth catch me. I can’t be locked up in the room or worse.
“Nora!”
Fuck, she’s a good runner too. I put on a burst of speed, ignoring the pain in my feet.
“Nora, don’t be an idiot! There’s nowhere to go!”
I know that’s true, but I can’t be a passive victim any longer. I can’t sit meekly in that house, eat Beth’s food, and wait for Julian to return.
I can’t allow him to hurt me again and then make my body crave him.
My leg muscles are screaming, and my lungs are straining for air. I divorce myself from the discomfort, pretend I’m in a race with the finish line only a hundred yards away.
It feels like I’m running forever. When I glance back, I see that Beth is falling further and further behind.
My pace eases a little bit. I can’t sustain that speed much longer. Without thinking too much, I head for the rocky side of the island, where I can clamber up the rocks and disappear in the heavily wooded area above them.
It takes me another ten minutes to get there. By then, I can no longer see Beth behind me.
I slow down and climb up the rocks. Now that I’m out of immediate danger, I can feel the cuts and bruises on my bare feet.
It’s a slow and torturous climb. My legs are quivering from unaccustomed exertion, and I can feel a post-adrenaline slump coming on. Nevertheless, I manage to get myself up the rocky hill and into the woods.
Tropical vegetation, lush and thick, is all around me, hiding me from view. I go deeper into the brush, seeking a good spot to collapse in exhaustion. It wouldn’t be easy to find me here. From what I remember during my earlier exploration, this forest covers a large portion of this side of the island.
I should be safe here for now.
As the darkness begins to fall, I take shelter under a large tree, where the underbrush is particularly impenetrable. I clear a little patch of ground for myself, making sure I’m not near any ant hills or anything else that could bite me. Then I lie down, ignoring the throbbing pain in my lacerated feet.
Not for the first time in my life, I’m grateful to my dad for taking me camping when I was a child. Thanks to his tutelage, I’m comfortable with nature in all its glory. Bugs, snakes, lizards—none of these bother me. I know I should be careful around certain species, but I don’t fear them as a whole.
I’m far more scared of the snakes who brought me to this island.
Now that I’m away from Beth, I can think a little more clearly.
That lean, toned body of hers is clearly not from doing light cardio and yoga in the gym. She’s strong—probably as strong as some men—and definitely much stronger than me.
She also seems to have had some kind of special training. Martial arts, maybe? I clearly made a mistake trying to take her prisoner. I should’ve slipped that knife into her back when she wasn’t looking.
It’s not too late, though. I can still sneak back into the house and surprise her there. I need access to that internet, and I need it now, before Julian returns.
I don’t know what he’ll do to me for attacking Beth—and I certainly don’t want to find out.
Chapter 10
A strange sensation wakes me up the next morning. It feels almost like—
“Oh shit!”
I jump up, trying to shake off the long-legged spider that’s leisurely strolling up my arm.
The spider flies off, and I frantically brush at my face, hair, and body, trying to get rid of any other potential creepy-crawlies.
Okay, so I’m not exactly afraid of spiders, but I really, really don’t like them on me.
This is definitely not the most pleasant way to wake up.
My heart rate gradually returns to normal, and I take stock of my situation. I’m thirsty, and my entire body aches from sleeping on the hard ground. I also feel grimy, and my feet hurt. Lifting up one leg, I peer at the sole of the foot. I’m pretty sure there’s dried blood on there
.
My stomach is rumbling with hunger. I didn’t have dinner last night, and I’m absolutely starving.
On the plus side, Beth hasn’t found me yet.
I’m not really sure what I’m going to do next. Perhaps make my way back to the house and try to ambush Beth there again?
I think about it and decide it’s probably the best course of action at this point. Sooner or later, Beth or Julian will find me. The island is not that big, and I would not be able to hide from them for long. And I can’t risk procrastinating, in case Julian returns sooner than expected. Two against one are terrible odds.
I’m also getting hungrier by the minute, and I tend to get light-headed if I don’t eat regularly. I could probably find fresh water to drink, but food is more iffy. I don’t know where Beth gets those mangos from. If I try to hide for another couple of days, I might be too weak to attack anyone, much less a woman who could be a freaking warrior princess.
Besides, she might not be expecting me quite yet, and I could really use an element of surprise.
So I take a deep breath and start walking—or rather, limping—back toward the house. I know this might not end well for me, but I have no choice. I either fight now, or I will forever be a victim.
It takes me about two hours to get back. I end up having to stop and take breaks when I can no longer tolerate the agony in my feet.
It’s kind of ironic that I escaped because I’m afraid of pain, and I ended up hurting myself so badly in the process. Julian would probably love to see me like this. That perverted bastard.
Finally, I reach the house and crouch behind some large bushes near the front door. I don’t know if it’s locked or not, but I don’t think I can just stroll in through the main entrance. For all I know, Beth is right there in the living room.
No, I need to be more strategic about it.
After a few minutes, I carefully make my way to the back of the house, toward the large screened porch where I had attacked Beth yesterday.