The Prey

“You have pleased me, Mara. Now I will reward you.”

Crouching between her legs, he pulled the dildo from her pussy and dropped it into the bucket of soapy water beside the bed he kept there for that purpose. Next he withdrew the anal plug, dropping it into the bucket as well.

Mara felt empty after being filled for so long. She watched as Alex stood and pulled off his clothing, revealing his long, thick, fully erect cock for her admiration. He climbed on top of her and eased himself into her pussy, which contracted hard against his penis, sending a shudder of pleasure through her frame.

“This is an honor I don’t bestow lightly,” he’d told her the first time, and she knew this was true. But, as he’d explained, she belonged to him now, even if he gave her away to the men who came to the island—she would always be his. She existed to serve, to obey, to please this man.

He was moving skillfully inside her, the head of his cock pulsing perfectly against her sweet spot. Just as she was about to beg for permission to come, he pulled out and flipped her over onto her belly. Spreading her ass cheeks, he spit on her probably still gaping asshole and then pushed the head of his cock into her ass.

Mara stifled her sigh of frustration at the interruption of her orgasm. But Alex came first. His pleasure was her pleasure. She would take what he gave her—the pleasure and the pain, the joy and the suffering. All of it was for Alex. As he rutted behind her, she focused on relaxing her body to receive him fully. He came with a cry and a final, savage thrust. When he collapsed heavily on top of her, mashing her flat against the mattress, she pushed away the small niggle of resentment that remained like a splinter beneath the skin of her mind.

“Thank you, sir.”

Chapter 9

The ruby dangling from its gold chain was cool and hard beneath her fingers. She stroked its faceted edges as fragmented phrases of her mantra drifted through her mind.

I exist to serve…I am a cunt…I am the property of Pirate Island…of Alex…to please and obey…to suffer…

Mara was startled from her reverie by an arm sliding gently around her shoulders. She turned to see one of the girls, who had settled beside her on the couch in the TV room. “Hey,” the girl said, “how’re you doing?”

Mara stared at the girl’s pretty face and shiny, curly brown hair, trying to recall her name. Finally a word slipped into her mind and then she remembered—Esmé. The girl who was dead to the outside world, killed in a car accident in Madrid. What had Mara died of, she found herself wondering, though it didn’t matter, really. There was no one left to care. Her world was here now.

I am the property of Pirate Island… I exist to serve…I belong to Alex…

“Earth to Mara. I’m talking to you.”

A little of the heavy fog that blanketed Mara’s thoughts since her return to the quarters lifted. She regarded Esmé, who looked so pretty in her little red dress, her ample curves barely contained in the clingy fabric. She seemed to be waiting for a response to a question, though for the life of her, Mara had no idea what she might have asked.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I said it’s good to have you back, Mara.” She lowered her voice as she leaned in closer. “We thought maybe you weren’t coming back. When a girl is taken by Alex for rehabilitation training, they sometimes don’t.”

Taken by Alex.

I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey…

Esmé’s voice lowered to a whisper. “Joanie was taken a month or so after she got here,” she confided. “She didn’t talk for a week after she came back. You’re doing good, Mara, really. You’ve only been back two days and already you seem to be coming out of it. You’re strong.” She gave Mara’s shoulder a squeeze.

Mara pulled away, a little more of the fog lifting from her brain. “Joanie was taken? You mean by Alex?” Had Alex fucked Joanie’s pussy, too? Was Mara not quite as special as she’d imagined?

Esmé nodded and bit her lip. “She won’t talk about what happened, but when she came back, she couldn’t sit down for like a week. She says she doesn’t remember, but how could you just forget? She wasn’t torn up or anything that I could see—I think the damage might have been internal.” Esmé shuddered.

Esmé placed her hand on Mara’s thigh, her mouth once again near to Mara’s ear as she whispered, “What happened, Mara? Was it terrible?”

Mara said nothing.

She stared down at Esmé’s hand still resting on her thigh. Was it terrible? She mulled over the question. Vague images of the first days as zero whirled in a dark dance through her memory, but it was a jumble, and it was better not to dwell too long. Still, Esmé’s question had triggered something in her mind, recalling the claustrophobic feeling of the tiny room with its bucket and newspaper, and how thin the mattress was beneath her aching body.