The Prey

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 over 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 a 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.”