Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  He stepped between her spread knees and tugged at her labia. Secured in the stirrups, she was unable to close her legs. Something bit into her outer labia on the right side. Mara screamed and jerked in her bonds, lifting her head in an effort to see what the bastard was doing.

  “Relax,” Alex said, a cruel smile lifting his lips. “It’s just a pair of clover clamps to hold your cunt open for the riding crop.”

  The riding crop! Mara began to tremble uncontrollably. A pulse jumped in her throat and, despite the water he’d just given her, her mouth was dry with fear.

  Alex held up a metal clamping device, a chain dangling from its end, which was attached to the second clamp now cutting into her delicate flesh. Just barely able to lift her head with her hands bound as they were, she watched helplessly as he secured the second clamp to an eyebolt in the table, pulling her tethered labia tight. Pain pulsed through her nerve endings.

  “Now the other side.” He produced a second identical pair of clamps. Bending his head, he pulled at the left side of her pussy. Mara screamed again as the second clamp bit into her flesh. Unperturbed, Alex attached the other end to a corresponding eyebolt on the other side of the table.

  “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” she whimpered. Sweat had broken out at her hairline and on her upper lip.

  “Of course it does,” Alex said agreeably. “It’s supposed to.”

  He stepped away from the table, returning a moment later holding a small riding crop. “No, please, please, sir, don’t hit me with that! Please!”

  Alex smiled indulgently, shaking his head. “Silly girl. I’m not going to hit you. I’m going to whip your cunt.” He tilted his head as if considering something, and then added, “I’ll tell you what. I’ll mix a little pleasure in with the pain. Eventually you’ll come to understand there’s no real difference between pleasure and pain—it’s all just sensation. You’ll come to crave the erotic suffering, because you’ll know it’s pleasing your Master. That’s all that will matter to you, once I train you properly, I promise.”

  He spit on his fingers and touched her spread pussy. She jerked but that was all she could do. With surprising delicacy, he stroked her inner labia, his fingers moving lightly over her clit. “Shh,” he murmured soothingly. “Calm yourself, Mara. Show me what a good girl you are.” He continued to touch and rub her sex. In spite of Mara’s terror and exhaustion and the pulsating pain from the clamps, her body reacted to his skillful touch.

  “Oh, that’s good,” Alex said eagerly. “You are a responsive little thing. I like that. We’ll work on orgasm training and control, too. Who knows, you might end up being my star pupil, my most prized possession.” He stroked her for several minutes. Her labia had numbed somewhat, making the clamps bearable. As he continued to play lightly over her spread vulva, the rising pleasure of an orgasm moved through her. It felt good, why not just let herself—

  A sudden, vicious smack of pain exploded against her pussy, the shock of it making her cry out as she twisted against her restraints. Alex had replaced his fingers with the riding crop and he struck her again and again, each painful slap of leather causing the clamp chains to sway and clank against the sides of the table.

  “Thank me,” Alex ordered as he continued to crop her.

  Praying that meant it would end, Mara managed to gasp, “Thank you, sir.” Sweat had pooled beneath her back and trickled under her arms.

  “Ask me for more. Say, ‘please, sir, give me more.’”

  “Please, sir,” Mara whimpered, willing to say anything to make it stop, “give me more.”

  With a dark chuckle, Alex replied, “With pleasure, my dear.” He increased the intensity and speed, the wicked crop smacking with a steady tap-tap-tap against Mara’s spread, clamped pussy.

  Mara began to cry again, whatever fight left in her drained away. Just let it stop. Just let it end. Please, please, please, please.

  As if reading her mind and taking pity, finally Alex did stop. Mara’s pussy continued to sting and throb. “I’m going to take off the clamps. This will hurt as the blood flow returns, so be ready,” Alex warned. He released the clamps and a new explosion of agony hurtled through her sex, causing Mara to gasp with pain.

  She was only dimly aware as he removed the cuffs and straps that held her in place. She lay limp, utterly spent. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to the loveseat, keeping her in his arms as he settled on the small sofa. He held her close and kissed the top of her head. “You did well, Mara. I’m proud of you. Everything is forgiven. You have an excellent future here at Pirate Island, as long as you behave and do your very best.”

  He cradled her gently and began to rock. The tenderness was unnerving after the sadistic torture session, and all she’d endured during the longest, most horrific day of her life. Mara began to cry again, more out of relief the immediate ordeal was over than anything else.

  “There, there,” he crooned softly. “That’s my good little girl.” He continued to rock her gently, like a father holding his precious baby. Turning her face, Mara buried it against her torturer’s chest and sobbed.

  Ronaldo delivered Mara to the girls’ quarters, stealing sidelong glances at her as he drove. The sun was setting, puffy clouds on the horizon glowing pink and orange against the fading sky. Mara slumped in the passenger seat of the cart, held up only by the seat belt straps, her hair a dank, tangled mess, her skin itchy from dried sweat, every bone and muscle in her body on fire.

  Dawn was waiting outside to receive her, fresh and crisp in a silky top and matching pants, her makeup perfect, her false smile bright. “You look like something the cat dragged in,” she commented drily as she eyed Mara. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up before supper.”

  Dawn led Mara into the building and marched her down the hallway toward the bathroom. As they walked past the bedroom doors, several were now open, though none were occupied. As before, a bath had already been drawn in the huge sunken tub. Mara didn’t need any coaxing to climb into the steaming bathwater.

  She scrubbed her hair and soaped her body, desperate to wash away the touch, the stink, the memory, of the men who had violated her. Her reddened pussy was sore and tender, indentations still on her outer labia where the cruel clamps had bitten into her flesh. Finally as clean as she was going to get, she lay back against the rim of the tub and closed her eyes, the soothing scent of lavender a balm to her senses, something almost like peace moving through her.

  “Dawn sent me to fetch you for supper. When there are no guests on the island, we girls eat here in the quarters together. It’s a great chance for y’all to meet everyone.”

  Mara’s eyes flew open at the strong, sweet cadence of a very Southern accent. Standing before her was a petite young woman who appeared to be barely out of her teens. She had honey-blond hair hanging loosely past her shoulders, big blue eyes and a pouty mouth. She wore a tight, low-cut Spandex white dress with spaghetti straps over tan shoulders, the hem stopping at mid thigh. The sexy, form-hugging dress belied her child-like features and little girl voice. It was apparent she had nothing on under the clingy fabric, her large breasts clearly outlined beneath it, the nipples protruding like cherries at their centers. A gold chain hung around her throat, a single teardrop-shaped diamond sparkling at her cleavage.

  Pushing herself upright, Mara reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself. “Meet everyone?” she echoed stupidly, dizzy from standing too quickly.

  “The girls. There are seven of us, since Darlene left. Now you make eight.” Her hands behind her back, the girl turned her bare feet inward so they were pigeon-toed, like a shy little girl might do. “My name is Scarlett. You’re Mara, right? I hope you’ll be happy here, Mara, once you get used to things.”

  Mara stared at the girl in confused disbelief. “Happy here? Are you telling me you’re happy?”

  Scarlett shrugged, a small smile playing on her pouty, plump lips. “I’m a diamond,” she replied, as if that somehow answered the question. He
r hand closed over the jewel between her breasts. “Do you want to be a diamond or a ruby?”

  Maybe the girl’s mind had gone. Probably the shock of whatever they’d done to her had turned her brain to jelly. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That’s okay. Alex will decide for you.”

  Mara bit her lip, looking away at the reminder of that hateful, evil man. She focused on drying herself and then looked around the large bathroom. “Is there a dress or something for me to wear?”

  Scarlett shook her head. “No, ma’am. Newbies go naked at all times. I keep forgetting it’s just your first day.”

  “My first day,” Mara retorted. “You make it sound like summer camp or something. I was kidnapped this morning, brought here under false pretenses, raped, tortured and terrorized for hours on end.” She heard the rising hysteria in her voice but couldn’t stop herself. “I have no idea what’s happening to me, other than I can’t get away and I’m going to be used as some kind of prostitute sex slave, if they don’t end up killing me first. And you’re hoping I’ll be happy here?” Her voice cracked, and she very nearly started crying, unshed tears burning behind her eyes. She swallowed hard and looked away again, refusing to give in to the confusion and terror that threatened to engulf her once more.

  “Gosh, I’m sorry, Mara. I’ve been here so long I almost forgot how scary it was at first.”

  “So long?” Mara blurted, staring at the girl. “How long have you been here?”

  “A little over a year. I can’t remember exactly. The first month was kind of a blur. I was strung out on meth when they found me, and detox took a while.”

  “How old are you, Scarlett?” Mara asked, sympathy for the girl temporarily overwhelming her own concerns.

  “Twenty-four.” Scarlett’s cheeks dimpled into a smile. “But I know I don’t look it. Some of the guests want a girl, you know, a virgin, and they always pick me.” Her voice took on a sudden little-girl quality that made Mara’s skin crawl. “Oh, please, sir, don’t hurt widdle Scarlett. I’m so scared of your big, massive cock, sir. Please be gentle.” She laughed, the sound a harsh contrast to the baby voice.

  “Scarlett!” Dawn’s voice made both Scarlett and Mara jump and turn toward the sound. Dawn stood in the doorway of the bathroom, her hands on her hips, a frown on her face. “I sent you to fetch Mara, not to stand there gabbing. Supper’s already on the table. Let’s go, girls. Move it.”

  Mara, clad only in a towel, pushed her wet hair back from her face and took a step forward. Dawn shook her head. “Hang your towel on one of the hooks, young lady. Girls in training are kept nude at all times. Didn’t Scarlett tell you that?”

  Reluctantly, Mara hung the towel on a hook and followed the women out of the bathroom. They moved past the bedroom doors and through the large entry hall of the building, continuing through a lounge area containing sofas and chairs and into a room that held a long, low wooden picnic table with benches fixed along either side, a large chair at one end.

  The benches were occupied by six women, all of them wearing dresses in varying colors, similar to the one Scarlett wore. Each had a necklace like Scarlett’s. Some wore diamonds, the others a red gem that looked like a garnet or a ruby. Suddenly Scarlett’s earlier question—do you want to be a diamond or a ruby—made some kind of sense.

  The women were silent, all of them staring at Mara as she entered the room. Their hands were in their laps, no one touching the food set on plates before each of them. All of them were pretty and slender, each somewhere in her twenties. Mara felt herself blushing at their focused scrutiny. Scarlett took a seat on the end of one of the benches.

  “You’ll sit there.” Dawn pointed to a space opposite Scarlett. Dawn took her seat at the head of the table.

  Mara looked down at the food heaped on a plate before her—slices of pork, mashed potatoes, a half-cob of corn and a biscuit. There was more food on platters in the center of the table, along with a pitcher of iced tea. There was a full glass of tea beside each plate. Mara’s mouth watered, her stomach rumbling at the sight and smell of the food. She started to reach for her fork, but Dawn’s words stopped her.

  “Everyone bow your head for grace.” All the women at once lowered their heads. Not daring to disobey, Mara did likewise, though she barely succeeded in biting back a snort of contempt at this hypocrisy, as if they were at a church gathering, rather than imprisoned sex slaves, or whatever the hell they were.

  “Lord, thank you for this bounty,” Dawn intoned. “And thank you for our diamonds and rubies, and the chance to serve our guests with grace and passion. Amen.”

  “Amen,” echoed the women around the table. Mara, who kept her lips pressed tightly closed.

  At once there was the clink of cutlery against china as everyone began to eat. Mara, too hungry to resist a moment longer, also picked up her fork. The meat was delicious—smoky and tender—and she eagerly cut and ate another piece. The potatoes were freshly mashed and the biscuit was flaky and buttery. She’d been expecting prison fare in this nightmare scenario in which she’d found herself, and she thought of her mother suddenly, her high, sweet voice an echo in Mara’s memory. See there, Mara, dear, there’s always something good to be found, even in the darkest places.

  No one spoke during the meal, everyone focused on her food. Mara did likewise. When she’d cleaned her plate and eaten a second helping of everything and drank two glasses of the lightly sweetened iced tea, she finally set down her fork with a satisfied sigh.

  Dawn clinked lightly against her glass with a utensil. All eyes turned at once to her. “Girls, please welcome our newest member, Mara.”

  Scarlett gave Mara an encouraging smile, though no one else at the table was smiling. Mara now regretted all the food she’d crammed into her belly, as it twisted with anxiety and fear of whatever was to come.

  “Each of you will stand when I introduce you to help Mara get the names with the faces. Scarlett you’ve already met,” Dawn said, as Scarlett popped up from her seat and beamed at Mara. “She’s a diamond. That means she’s earned the right to mingle with and service our guests as a fully trained escort, including attending dinners and parties.” Dawn gave Scarlett a quick nod and she sat down.

  “Joanie is a ruby.” A tall, slender woman with coppery-tan skin, dark, short hair, deep brown eyes and a full, sensuous mouth rose gracefully from the bench. She wore a ruby necklace that contrasted prettily with her cream-colored, figure-hugging dress. “Rubies service our guests who enjoy inflicting erotic pain—bondage, whippings, genital torture—that sort of thing. Joanie can endure whippings that make other girls faint.” Mara’s blood froze with horror not only at the words, but at Dawn’s casual, breezy delivery, and the apparent total acceptance of her words by the other women in the room.

  “This is Sam, another ruby. She’s our newest acquisition before you, and though she completed the initial training well enough, she still suffers from an attitude problem.” Dawn frowned at Sam.

  Sam was of medium height, with wavy auburn hair cut to her shoulders. She had green eyes and pale skin, her small nose sprinkled with a dusting of freckles. She looked down at the table, though not before Mara saw the flash of defiance in her eyes.

  Perhaps Dawn had seen this as well, because her voice hardened. “Turn around, lift your dress and show Mara what happens to naughty girls here on Pirate Island.”

  An undisguised scowl moved over the girl’s face, but she turned as ordered and lifted her dress. Mara sucked in her breath as she stared at the dark red welts striping Sam’s small, bare bottom and the backs of her thighs.

  “You may lower your dress and sit down,” Dawn said crisply after a few moments.

  While Mara tried to recover from the shock, Dawn introduced the rest of the girls. Esmé wore a diamond necklace. She had ringlets of chestnut brown hair cascading down her back, her body as lush and ripe as a piece of fruit. Raeanne, introduced as a ruby, was the only African America
n girl in the group, her hair cropped close against her head, her face startlingly beautiful, with high cheekbones and large, almond-shaped black eyes. Cassie was a diamond, with white-blond wavy hair cut in a bob to her chin, her body as slender and narrow as a boy’s. The last girl, Whitney, also wore a diamond. She reminded Mara of a young Elizabeth Taylor, with her dark hair, violet-blue eyes and perfect, creamy skin.

  Dawn clapped twice as Whitney took her seat. “Okay, girls. Cassie and Raeanne, you will clear the table. The rest of you, free time until ten. Remember, we have new guests arriving tomorrow, so make sure you get your beauty rest. We want you at your very best for presentation.”

  Focusing directly on Mara, Dawn said, “You won’t be attending any presentations, obviously, until you complete your initial training. Alex will work with you extensively, and if you’re very obedient and cooperative, he might have whipped you into good enough shape to serve the next group of gentlemen who arrive on the island. It’s entirely up to you, Mara, how quickly and how well you progress here. Just remember”—she shot a dark look at Sam—“good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished.”

  Chapter 4

  The girls drifted out of the dining room, save for the two assigned to clear the table. Mara watched as they stacked plates and silverware and carried them through a swinging door that presumably connected to a kitchen. She could hear the sound of water running and pots clanging as the door opened, and she wondered who was in there. More abducted women? Paid island staff like Ronaldo?

  “Come on. Only KP stays in here after supper.” Scarlett appeared beside Mara and gave her arm a tug. Mara followed Scarlett into the lounge area. Several of the girls were seated, all staring silently at a large flat screen TV mounted to the wall. The TV was tuned to a news station, an old guy with a short white beard and black glasses mouthing his lines for the camera.