The Prey
“Say it.”
Mara repeated the words.
“Go down again. I’ll tap you.”
Another deep breath and she slid beneath the water. At least down here she couldn’t hear his voice or see his handsome, cruel face. The second before her instincts took over and made her disobey, there was a tap on her shoulder, and she burst once more from the water, gasping for breath.
“Say it again.”
She mouthed the words and again he forced her under.
Over and over and over Mara slid beneath the water. Alex made her repeat the mantra each time she came up for air. Finally, tears streaming down her face, her teeth chattering so hard it was difficult to speak, Mara sobbed the words, letting all her anguish pour through them. “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.” She said it again and again, without prompting, her mind caught in an endless loop of despair. “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island. I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island. I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey. I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.”
“Yes,” Alex cried, his face lighting with maniacal zeal. “Finally! I believe you, zero. I believe you.” He bent over the tub and pulled the plug. The water drained quickly. Mara lay as she was, huddled and shivering. Alex turned on the hot water, adjusting both taps until he was satisfied.
The tub began to fill again, this time with steamy hot water that warmed Mara’s shuddering body and icy skin. Alex poured some of the fragrant bath oil into the water.
“You just relax, sweetheart,” he said in a soothing tone, his deep voice flowing over her like honey. “I’m proud of you. You learned a good lesson today. You exist to serve and obey, my cunt, my piece of ass, my property.”
Too exhausted from the ordeal to experience any emotion beyond relief, Mara closed her eyes, shutting out the man’s face, turning down the volume of his words as the deliciously warm, soft water rose around her.
Mara knelt on the floor beside the kitchen table, watching hungrily as Alex ate his dinner. He didn’t look at Mara even once as he ate, focused entirely on his solitary meal. The second plate beckoned her like a taunt, on it a piece of salmon, some steamed broccoli and little potatoes, their golden skins split and dripping with butter, a piece of crusty garlic bread on the side of the plate.
Finally Alex pushed away from the table with a satisfied sigh. He touched his napkin to his lips and set it aside. Finishing the last of his white wine, he poured himself a second glass.
Mara’s eyes fluttered closed. I can’t do this. I can’t do this anymore. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Tell me, Mara, why do you exist?”
Mara forced herself to open her eyes. Alex was staring intently at her, his green eyes glittering. She knew what he wanted. If she said the words, would he give her something to eat?
They’re just words. A means to an end.
Mara took a breath and forced herself to reply, “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey, sir.”
Alex nodded slowly. “And what are you?”
Just words.
“I am a cunt, a piece of ass, sir.”
“And who do you belong to?”
“I am the property of Pirate Island, sir.”
“Good.” Alex pushed back his chair and stood, moving to the second chair. He sat down in front of Mara’s plate. Mara tensed, aware this might be yet another setup, but unable to snuff the flare of hope that ignited inside her.
She clenched her hands into fists behind her back as she watched him cut a small piece of the fish. He held the fork near her mouth. Mara leaned forward, mouth open. He held it just out of her reach for one second, two seconds, three, while Mara waited, her fingernails digging painfully into her palms. She knew better than to move, even a fraction of an inch.
Finally, he brought the fork close enough to slide the salmon into Mara’s open mouth. Mara sighed with pleasure as she chewed and swallowed. She remained still, silent, hopeful as the fork dipped once more toward the plate.
He fed her methodically, allowing her sips of water and even some of the wine between bites. There was less food on her plate than there had been on his, and she would have liked another serving, but was grateful for what he’d given her. When the plate was empty, he smiled down at her. “What do you say?”