Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  With that, he used his key to unlock the door, stepped out of the room and closed the door. The bolt slid shut as he locked it from the outside. Mara went into the bathroom. She found some mouthwash and gargled vigorously. She washed her face and patted it dry with a towel—Dawn’s makeup be damned.

  Still not willing to give up the idea of escape, she pulled open the medicine cabinet and all the drawers, searching for something, anything, she might use to defend herself, but unless she could figure out a way to overpower someone with a bar of soap or a tube of toothpaste, she was out of luck.

  She recalled DJ’s knife. Maybe she could somehow get hold of it, but then what? Even if by some miracle she managed to get out of the house, what was the next step? Where would she go? It was an island, so surely there had to be boats docked somewhere. Mara knew how to drive a speedboat, but how would she get to the dock?

  She shook her head and sighed deep. The sound of the bedroom door opening made her stiffen and catch her breath.

  “Hey, get out here,” DJ called. “And bring the lube with you. It’s in the drawer to the right of the sink.”

  Her heart sinking to her toes, Mara opened the drawer and took out the KY Jelly she’d seen a moment before. Was the bastard going to ignore the doctor’s warning? Was he that stupid? Then, uninvited and unwelcome, his words came back into her head—her ass belongs to me.

  “No,” she whispered. “No.”

  “Don’t make me come after you, girl,” DJ called. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.”

  When she entered the bedroom, the guy was already naked, his broad chest and flat stomach matted with dark curling hair, his cock fisted in his hand. “Get on the bed,” he ordered. “On your hands and knees like a dog. I’m going to fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

  “Please, DJ,” Mara tried, hoping that by using his name, and because they were around the same age, he might be more receptive. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you—”

  “Hmmm, I like when you beg,” DJ interrupted with an evil grin. “But it’s not going to stop me. I use every new girl this way. It’s my personal welcome.” He laughed as if he’d said something incredibly witty. “Now, get on the fucking bed on your hands and knees. If I have to tell you again, you’ll not only get a reaming, but a spanking, too.”

  Mara moved on shaking legs toward the bed. DJ held out his hand and she placed the tube of lubricant on his palm. She knelt on the bed as ordered, her heart beating high in her throat. Though she wasn’t a stranger to anal sex, it held no particular appeal, and the thought of being violated in this way by this pig made her want to scream.

  Instead she swallowed her rage and her terror, which curled into a tight, painful ball inside her as DJ climbed onto the bed behind her, making the mattress sway as it absorbed his additional weight. “Now, reach back and spread your ass cheeks. Go on.” He smacked her ass. “Do what I tell you.”

  Her face blazing, Mara lowered her forehead to the bed and reached back to hold herself open. She shuddered when the dollop of cold lube oozed between her cheeks. “I’ll take it from here,” DJ said in a throaty voice. He slapped her hands away and grabbed her hips, pulling her toward him. She squeezed her eyes closed and gritted her teeth as the head of his cock nudged against her nether hole.

  He pressed forward, his fat cockhead stretching her delicate membranes. Mara whimpered at the sudden, sharp pain. “Relax, baby,” DJ crooned, as if he were a lover instead of a rapist. “It’ll be easier for you if you relax. Trust me.”

  I’d trust a crocodile before I’d trust you, asshole. Still, he was right—the more she clenched her anal muscles, the more his forced penetration was going to hurt. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to relax, to accept the invasion as best she could. The sooner he was in, the sooner he’d be out. It was a little easier once she managed to relax, the pain replaced by an unpleasant fullness, but nothing she couldn’t endure. She was glad he was behind her, at least, instead of on top of her.

  DJ began to grunt, though he wasn’t thrusting too hard, thank goodness, but more like gliding in and out now that her anal muscles had relaxed, the copious lubricant smoothing his way. He continued to grunt like a pig as he moved behind her, his sweat landing in droplets against her back. She couldn’t stop the shudder of disgust that moved through her body.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” DJ urged breathlessly, apparently mistaking her movement for something positive. “See, I knew you could get into it if you just relaxed, babe.” Finally, with a loud groan and single hard thrust that made her fall forward onto the bed, DJ let go of her hips and lay atop her like a beached whale, his sweaty body hot against her skin.

  She shifted slightly beneath him, relieved when his cock finally slipped from inside her. He rolled to his side next to her and lifted his arms behind his head with a satisfied sigh. Looking at her in the mirror on the ceiling, he said, “Go get a warm washcloth and clean me up, bitch.”

  Glad to get away from him, Mara rolled from the bed and went into the bathroom. She found a washcloth in a cabinet and turned on the tap, soaking the cloth and adding soap. Gingerly, she touched her asshole, which was sore but not bleeding. Relieved, she gently wiped herself clean with the soapy cloth as best she could.

  “Did you fall in or what?” DJ called out. “Get in here.”

  Dropping the used washcloth in the sink, Mara hurriedly dried herself. She grabbed a fresh washcloth, ran it under the tap and brought it out to the big, naked man sprawled on the bed, along with a hand towel. She started to sit on the bed beside him, but he stopped her. “Unh-uh,” he said with a shake of his head. “Climb between my legs. I want to watch your tits bounce while you clean me off.”

  Mara moved to the end of the bed and crawled onto the mattress as ordered, too defeated to even take much offense at his crudeness. She did her best to ignore his leer as she wiped and dried his now flaccid cock and hairy balls. A knock at the door made them both look in that direction.

  “Yeah?” DJ called out.

  “You about ready?”

  “Sure thing, Dad. I’ll send her right out.” Turning back to Mara, DJ said, “I’m gonna take a little snooze. Hand me my shorts.”

  Mara climbed off the bed and picked up DJ’s shorts. As she did, she wondered if the knife he’d used to cut off her clothing was in one of the pockets. Did she dare search for it? And then what?

  DJ was staring at her as if reading her intent on her face. “Hand ’em over.” He reached for the shorts, yanking them from her grasp. Putting his hand into a pocket, he pulled out a door key and held it out to Mara. She took the key, wincing as he added, “You have a nice, tight asshole. I’ll definitely be using it again.”

  Biting back a scathing retort, Mara turned toward the door.

  “Hey!” DJ said. “You forgot to thank me.”

  Mara stopped in her tracks. Was he kidding? Thank you for raping me, you sweaty, disgusting pig. Mara turned the key in the lock with a shaking hand.

  “I said”—DJ’s voice was hard now and he spoke with exaggerated slowness—“you forgot to thank me.”

  They’re just words. Nothing more. Mara forced herself to turn and face him. “Thank you, DJ,” she managed to say between clenched teeth.

  “You’re welcome, babe. It was a pleasure. But you know what they say, with the pleasure comes the pain.” He barked a short laugh. “That’s Alex’s department. A few hours with him, and you’ll be missing me. That’s a promise.”

  Chapter 3

  Mara kept her eyes squeezed tight. Her lungs ached and she couldn’t hold out much longer. When Alex finally yanked her head up by the hair, she opened her mouth wide, gasping as she inhaled the wonderful, life-giving air. Before she could close her mouth again, he shoved her head back into the bucket. The foul, cold saltwater pooled in her mouth and burned inside her nostrils.

  She struggled against the iron hand holding her under. The concrete floor was hard beneath her knees. Her hands were bound in Velcr
o cuffs behind her back, strong legs holding her in place on either side of her body. How easy it would be to just suck in the seawater, to let it fill her lungs and drown her misery. If she couldn’t get away from her tormentors by running, she could make the ultimate escape.

  She tried to summon the courage to let go. Maybe there really was a heaven, and her parents were waiting there for her, arms open to enfold her. It would be so easy—just let go…

  No, stay in there and fight, baby. You’re a Stevens—we never give up. Her father’s voice sounded so clearly in her head that she startled. Empowered by his presence inside her, she kept her lips sealed tight as her heart pumped with mad, furious desperation.

  Finally he pulled her up again. The water streamed down her face and stung her eyes. Mara sucked in as much air as she could through her nostrils but kept her mouth closed in anticipation of the next plunge. To her vast relief, Alex let go of her hair and hauled her to her feet, where she swayed.

  He pulled the Velcro cuffs from her wrists and then caught her behind the knees with one arm and wrapped his other around her shoulders, lifting her into his arms. He carried her to a couch set against one wall and rolled her onto it.

  As she coughed and sputtered, he dropped a towel on her chest. Gratefully, she grabbed the towel and wiped her face and head.

  Alex sat beside her. Crossing his ankle over his knee, he turned to regard her with an impassive expression. Mara curled in on herself, angling away from the monster. “Remind me,” Alex said in a calm voice, as if he hadn’t just nearly drowned her in a bucket, “why I was forced to punish you just now.”

  Mara edged away until she was pressed against the far arm of the couch. In a sudden movement, Alex reached over and yanked the towel from her. “Look at me.”

  Mara forced her head to turn in his direction.

  “I have no problem resuming the punishment,” Alex said. “It’s entirely up to you. When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Why did I punish you?”

  “You punished me”—Mara had to push the word out—it wasn’t punishment, it was torture, plain and simple, but she didn’t dare risk the bucket again—“because I tried to use the phone to call for help.”

  “Sir,” Alex said.

  Mara stared at him, confused.

  “Because I tried to use the phone, sir,” he elaborated. “You will address me as sir at all times going forward. Do you understand, Mara?”

  Mara swallowed hard, impotent rage coursing through her blood like corrosive acid. “Yes, sir,” she forced herself to reply.

  Alex gave a curt nod. “Now say it. ‘You punished me, sir, because I tried to use the phone.’ And you will add, ‘I was a very, very bad girl.’”

  They’re only words. You’re doing this to survive until you can get away. It means nothing. He means nothing. In a leaden voice, she parroted, “You punished me, sir”—she could barely get the words past the lump of fury in her throat—“because I tried to use the phone. I was a very, very bad girl.”

  “That is correct.” Alex smiled at her, the curve of his lips cold and cruel. “Going forward you will answer with courtesy and promptness every question asked. You will obey every request and command instantly, without hesitation and without that willful, defiant attitude that radiates from you right now like a stink.”

  He touched her thigh. Mara clenched her hands into fists to keep from smacking his hand away. “I understand this is difficult for you, Mara,” he said, his voice suddenly gentle. “It’s a lot to get a handle on your first day in your new life. I know you don’t believe it yet, but I’ll teach you to become a good, obedient, properly trained submissive. Does that please you, Mara?”

  Mara stared at him, dumbfounded by the question. It would please me to kick you in the balls, you sadistic bastard. It would please me to get a gun and blow your fucking head off.

  “You may answer honestly. I expect—no, I demand—honesty from my girls at all times.”

  Mara had no idea how to respond. It was a trick, a trap. It was a catch-22. He was playing a sick game and she hadn’t yet figured out the rules. “Um,” she mumbled, gambling he wanted her to pretend, despite what he’d said. “Yes, sir, that pleases me.”

  Alex’s hand shot out and he grabbed her by the throat, his thumb and forefinger digging hard into the flesh just below her jaw. Instinctively she grabbed for his hand with both of hers, trying to pry it away, but he held fast.

  “You just lied to me. I’m going to ask the question again, and this time you will answer honestly.” Mara couldn’t breathe and her heart felt like it was going to explode. “Does it please you that I’m going to teach you to be a good, obedient, properly trained submissive?”

  He let go of her throat and Mara began to cough as she gasped for breath. He stared at her with raised eyebrows. He wanted the truth? Fine. If pure hatred were enough to kill, the man would be dead five times over. “No,” she replied, “it doesn’t please me, sir.” She instantly regretted the sarcastic emphasis she’d been unable to stop herself from putting on the last word.

  Alex nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on her face. To her relief, he didn’t seem to have taken offense at her tone. “No, of course it doesn’t please you. You have a mind of your own.” He smiled, adding ominously, “For now.” He stood and pointed to the concrete at his feet. “Kneel there in front of me. We’re going to try again. Remember what I’ve taught you so you can answer properly.”

  He waited while Mara forced herself from the couch. She pushed her wet, matted hair from her face as she knelt on the hard concrete. She was hungry, thirsty, aching, terrified and utterly exhausted.

  Alex placed a heavy hand on the top of her head. “Why was I forced to punish you, Mara?” he asked again.

  Mara took a breath and blew it out. “Because I tried to use the phone, sir,” she made herself reply.

  He lifted his hand. “That’s correct. Will you try to run away again, Mara?”

  “No, sir,” Mara said with conviction. I won’t try. Next time I’ll fucking succeed.

  “Good girl.” He pulled her to her feet and peered into her face. “Punishment is over. Sit on the couch. Would you like some water?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mara replied.

  Alex walked over to a small refrigerator set below a counter at the back of the room and returned with a bottle of water. Mara accepted it and drank deeply, grateful for this small gift. Alex sat again beside her and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “I am going to conduct an assessment of your penchant for erotic pain. A certain segment of our guest population enjoys indulging in the fine art of sadomasochism. We at Pirate Island take pride in the ability of our girls to handle whippings, bondage, erotic torture, humiliation play and whatever else pleases our guests with this particular predilection. Tell me,” he continued in a conversational tone, “do you have any experience with BDSM?”

  Whippings, bondage, erotic torture…

  The words whirled in Mara’s mind. This couldn’t be happening. She rocked back and forth on the couch, her fingers digging into her upper arms as she stared blankly at the ground. “No,” she moaned, not in direct answer to the man’s question, but because her mind refused to give his words credence. “No, no, no, no.”

  “Sir.” Alex spat the word, making Mara jump. She looked at him without comprehension. He rose from the couch and stared down at her. With a disgusted shake of his head, he commanded, “Stand up.”

  Slowly, Mara got to her feet.

  “You’re still in denial,” he said. “You need a dose of reality.” He gripped her arm and pulled her toward a door set into the side wall. “Let’s go into the playroom.” Opening the door, he pushed her through. Stepping in behind her, he flicked on the lights.

  Mara stared, open-mouthed, as she took in the equipment scattered through the room. A gynecological table had been placed perpendicular against one wall, chains and leather straps hanging from eyebolts along both sides. A large wooden structure in the shape of an X stood against on
e wall, cuffs hanging at the four corners, a leather strap at the center. On the wall just behind the cross hung a series of whips of varying sizes and shapes, as well as several riding crops and canes. There was a chair that resembled an old-fashioned barber chair, again with straps and chains attached strategically on the arms and legs. Another chair had a large hole in the seat, a porcelain bowl set on the ground beneath it. A large dog cage sat in the corner of the room, a thin blanket on the floor of the cage. The only piece in the room not designed to terrorize was a loveseat set against the wall opposite the X cross.

  “Please,” Mara blurted involuntarily, trying to pull away from her captor, “don’t make me go in here.”

  “It’s for your own good,” Alex purred, his voice deeper since they’d entered what could only be called a torture chamber. He pushed her forward into the room. “Bad girls like you, disobedient, willful girls, can only become good, proper submissives through extensive training. What kind of trainer would I be if I just threw you to the wolves, as it were—if I let those guests have their way with you without first preparing you, teaching you?”

  Mara’s knees buckled and she sank to the ground. “Please,” she cried. “I’m so afraid. I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

  Alex lifted her, forcing her back to her feet. “Calm yourself,” he said gently, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Your reaction is natural, but the sooner you accept your situation, the better off you’ll be.”

  He forced her to the exam table and pushed at her shoulder. “Lie down and scoot forward so your butt is on the edge of the table. Put your feet in the stirrups.” His face implacable, he stared hard at her with those cold green eyes until she finally, reluctantly obeyed. She lay back against the padded cushion and closed her eyes, tears trickling into her hair on either side of her face.

  “Good girl. All you have to do now is take what I give you, and thank me when I tell you. We’ll keep the session short, given it’s your first day.” Indifferent to her terror, Alex moved around the table, lifting and securing straps over her body, cuffing her wrists, strapping her ankles into the stirrups. He pulled her arms up and back over her head, securing her cuffs to the hook set in the wall behind her head.