He waited three very long minutes before receiving Hugh’s reply. Good job! We’re nearly there. Unfortunately, there’s been a hiccup with top brass. Some issue with North Carolina bigwig connections very high up regarding Wallace. I’m fighting it as hard as I can. The audio and video you sent should go a long way to resolving the issue in our favor. Coast Guard on alert. Hang tight a while longer.
“Fuck,” Wes swore softly. He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. It looked like he was going to have to continue undercover a little longer, which meant he’d have to participate in the bizarre hunt, just the thought of which made his skin crawl.
He slipped away from the dock, moving silently beneath the dense tapestry of stars in the huge night sky. When he returned to his room, he let himself back into his veranda and pulled back the sliding glass door.
Whitney was awake, propped on her elbows. She watched silently as he reentered the room. Wes sat down on the end of the bed. “Hey,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
Whitney shook her head. “No.” She smiled and pushed the sheet down, spreading her long, coltish legs in invitation. “Let me serve you, sir,” she said. In a nearly inaudible whisper, she added with a wink, “You could close your eyes and pretend I’m a guy.” In a louder voice, she continued, “I was born to serve. It is my goal, my pleasure and my delight to make you happy, sir. Very, very happy.”
As before, she said the words in an odd kind of singsong way, as if they were just syllables strung together without meaning. Now that he knew it was only a matter of hours until this whole operation was taken down, Wes asked softly, “Are you here voluntarily, Whitney? Is it your choice to work here?”
Whitney paled, her eyes growing wide, her hands fluttering to her mouth. “Oh!” she gasped, and again her eyes slid toward the light fixture and then away again. “I love it here on Pirate Island. We live a life of luxury. I was born to serve. It is my goal, my pleasure and my delight to make you happy, sir. Very, very happy.” She was smiling fixedly, though her eyes had filled with tears.
Alarmed, Wes reached for her and pulled her close. All his instincts were screaming. Something was very, very wrong. “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. Whatever’s going on, it’s going to be okay. I promise.”
He lay down, Whitney still in his arms. “Sleep,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “Go back to sleep.” He held her close until she relaxed once more against him. Only then did he close his eyes. Utterly exhausted, he fell instantly asleep.
Chapter 10
With DJ in front and Curtis bringing up the rear, the girls filed through the trees wearing only backpacks and sneakers. The men wore long-sleeved shirts, long pants and boots. They led the girls deep into the heart of the small woods, stopping finally in a clearing near the scummy salt bog. Curtis came up to stand beside DJ. He gave a short blast of the whistle around his neck. “Stand at attention, girls, hands behind your back,” he ordered. The three girls, standing now side-by-side, did as the glorified gym teacher commanded.
“Okay, girls, listen up,” he said. “Remember everything I’ve taught you about wilderness survival. You get an hour’s head start to get yourself situated. Try not to get caught in the first five minutes.” His grin was ugly and Mara looked away.
“The hunt lasts four hours,” DJ added. “Like Curtis said, you want to give the guys a challenge so they feel like they got their money’s worth. If I think you just gave up right off the bat, you’ll be very, very sorry.” He glared from one girl to the next to emphasize his point.
“Excuse me, sir,” Raeanne said, “may I ask a question?”
“What’s that?” DJ fixed his piggy eyes on Raeanne.
“What if we manage to stay hidden until the four hours are up?” Raeanne elaborated.
DJ sneered. “Don’t count on it. This will be the sixth hunt we’ve done, and so far no girl has lasted through the whole thing.” He waved his arm. “These woods ain’t that big, as you should know from your training with Curtis. The only way you’re going to avoid capture is by constantly moving. You’ll have to stay one step ahead of the men, and stay out of sight. If you last more than two hours, consider your job well done.”
“But if we do manage, sir? If the hunt ends and we haven’t been found? If that were to happen, what then, sir?” Raeanne persisted, her tone respectful but insistent.
DJ’s grin was laced with malice. “Why, then, darlin’, you’ll get the beating of a lifetime for depriving our paying guests of the good time they’ve paid for. Get it now? You hide for as long as you can, but if Curtis here blows his whistle, that means the hunt is up and you get your ass out of your hidey hole and you let yourself get caught, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Raeanne said softly, though Mara, standing just beside her, saw Raeanne’s hands clench into fists behind her back. Cassie was staring at the ground, her posture already one of defeat.
“Make sure y’all separate,” DJ continued. “Each of you go your own way. Makes it more fun for the guys. I find any of you together, I’ll beat you like I own you.” He paused a beat and then added with an ugly laugh, “Oh, wait, I do.”
Mara stared at the ground. No, you don’t. I belong to Alex.
She looked up again as DJ clapped his hands. “Okay, then. Let’s get this show on the road.” He waved his arms toward the trees surrounding them. “Go on. Git.”
Mara took off, glad to get away from the men, especially DJ. Running was impossible, but she moved as quickly as she could through the scrubby undergrowth that covered much of the forest floor.
Once safely away from the clearing, she slowed down, examining her surroundings as she thought about her plan. None of the trees were especially high, no doubt stunted by the sandy soil, constant wind and seasonal storms on the barrier island, but some were quite large, their sturdy branches thick with foliage.
She thought about DJ’s admonition to stay one step ahead of the hunters. Mara imagined terrified fox tearing blindly away from growling, slavering dogs filled her mind. She shook away the image.
She would not be a fox. She would not try to stay one step ahead. She would stay behind. Stealthily, she began to retrace her steps to where they’d entered the woods. If the guests were anything like DJ and his father, they would probably come barreling into the forest, crashing noisily through the brush with the assumption the girls were hidden somewhere deep within.
She peeked cautiously out from behind a tree and breathed a sigh of relief. No one was in sight. She could just see the distant shore between the trees. Her often-visited fantasy of running toward the ocean and swimming away slipped into her mind, but she’d never make it.
Focus, Alex whispered, bringing Mara back to her immediate task. Surveying the prospects, she chose a large tree on the edge of the woods. The really sturdy branches were too high up for her to sling her rope, but the trunk had plenty of nooks and crannies that would serve as toeholds.
Reaching into her backpack, Mara took out the bandana and used it to tie back her hair. She made her way gingerly through the tangled clump of thorny vines at the base of the tree. Wrapping her arms around the fat trunk, she placed the toe of her sneaker in a small hollow about a foot up the trunk.
She lost her grip twice, scraping her legs, arms and torso as she skidded back down to the ground. Finally, slowly, gracelessly, she inched her way up the tree and into the protective cover of the leaves. She settled in the V of two thick branches and leaned back cautiously against the wood, grateful for the padding her backpack supplied.
It had taken probably a half hour to make it up the tree, and Mara stiffened at the sound of movement below her. Had the men arrived early? Was the hunt on? Her heart squeezed in a vise of fear, Mara peered through the leaves. But instead of a bunch of men, she saw Cassie zigzagging along through the scrub, panic radiating from her like an aura.
Mara leaned back against the branches, sagging with relief at the reprieve. But what was Cassie doing still out in the open? Why
hadn’t the girl hidden herself yet? Was she being chased? Were the men already there, having come in a different way?
Mara decided she was in a good spot, and permitted herself a small smile of congratulations. She was thirsty from the hard work, and she reached back carefully to extract her water bottle. She took a deep pull before returning it to the pack.
It was maybe forty minutes later that Mara heard footsteps and masculine voices below her. The hunt had begun. Once more she peeked through the leaves, her heart in her throat. She could see the tops of four heads. Two of the men were wearing caps. The other two were bareheaded, one with straight blond hair, the other with the dark, curly mop she recognized as belonging to DJ Wallace.
The men stood in a cluster about fifteen yards from her tree, backpacks strapped to their backs. The sound of laughter drifted up to her. Beneath her fear, a dark, corrosive anger heated Mara’s blood, burning away some of the comforting fog her mantra had wrapped around her senses. There she perched, cowering and terrified in a tree, while creepy, perverted assholes stood beneath her, eager to hunt naked, defenseless women for sport! Rage surged through Mara’s being, rising inside her like a primal scream. She clamped her jaw, biting down hard to keep from making a sound.
Relax. Stay focused. Remember why you exist. Alex’s warm, soothing voice slid once more into her mind. She tried to recall her mantra, to grab at the protective words and wrap them around her, but the fury pulsing in her blood made her falter.
Breathe, Alex whispered. Take what is given. Do this for me.
Mara blew out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The words began to return, haltingly at first, and then in a steady, soothing and oft-repeated rhythm. I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey…
Calmed, Mara was able to focus on the hubbub beneath her. “Y’all go on in there and have fun,” DJ said in his loud, obnoxious voice. “I know these woods like the back of my hand. You need anything, just give me a holler on the walkie-talkie and I’ll be right there.”
One of the men murmured something inaudible, and Mara leaned forward, straining to hear. DJ guffawed and said in a voice that easily reached her ears, “There ain’t no poisonous snakes on this island, Jed, but, sure, I don’t mind coming with you. In fact, it would be my pleasure. If we get Raeanne, though, you got to share. She’s got the sweetest ass this side of the Mason-Dixon line. She’s a ruby, too—a regular pain slut. She likes nothing better than a good beating before she’s fucked.”
The laughter was jeering, the casual contempt of its tone more terrifying than any war cry. Mara breathed a tremulous sigh of relief as the men moved away, heading off in different directions. None of them had looked up even once.
Mara leaned back in her perch and took in several long, shuddering breaths. She was covered in sweat, though the day wasn’t yet hot. Once she’d stopped shaking, she untied the bandana and wiped it over her face and neck. Pulling back her hair, she retied it once more and leaned back in her perch.
How long should she stay up there? The men were off hunting in the interior of the woods. It seemed stupid to climb down now and risk running into them. She was high up and out of sight. Better to remain where she was, at least for now.
An hour or so passed, during which Mara heard nothing except the sound of insects and birds. Her legs were stiff, her bottom asleep from sitting so long against the hard wood. She had just decided to move to a lower branch in case she needed to make a quick escape, when she heard the sound of a deep voice and the accompanying whimpers of a girl. She froze where she was and waited.
A moment later the pair came into sight—a burly man with a big gut, Cassie walking behind him. As they passed closer, Mara saw Cassie’s hands were bound in front of her, rope around her wrists, another rope around her neck, the end of it in the man’s hand.
Cassie was covered in mud, her face streaked with dirty tears. “Hoo-whee! I got me one,” the man crowed into his walkie-talkie as he pulled her along. “Caught her fair and square. She was hiding down by the bog, rootin’ in the mud like a little pig.”
He listened to something Mara couldn’t quite catch over the walkie-talkie and replied, “Roger that. I’m back where we started. Send the boy over with the cart so I can get this piglet hosed off back in my suite.”
Piglet.
Cassie, a young woman, a human being, was being treated like an animal, worse than an animal, since she understood what was happening to her—the degradation, the objectification, the systematic brutalization and humiliation.
No. No, Mara. Listen to me. This is why she exists. Why you exist. To serve, to suffer, to please and obey. You are property. You belong to the island, you belong to me. Make me proud. Serve me. Suffer for me.
“No.”
Mara gasped. Had she spoken aloud? Had anyone heard her? More importantly, had she dared to say no to Alex?
She glanced anxiously around her, as if he might suddenly appear beside her on the branch, a whip in his hand, ready to punish her for her transgression. Leaning back, Mara grinned weakly at her foolishness. Alex wasn’t there. She was alone. She was on her own, and her mission was to remain hidden. To be the last girl standing.
She peered down again through the foliage. There was no indication she’d been heard. The fat man was just below her now, Cassie stumbling miserably behind him, yanked forward by the rope around her neck. Though Mara was horribly sorry for the girl, at the same time she couldn’t help the small exhilaration of triumph—she hadn’t been caught first. Alex would be proud of her.
She remained utterly still for a long time after they’d disappeared. She needed to pee, but not bad enough to do anything about it. She peered through the foliage, straining to hear anything beyond the usual sounds of forest life. Again she debated whether it was time to find a new hiding place or stay put. The old adage, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, popped into her mind, and she decided to stay where she was a while longer.
Though she wanted to, Mara didn’t dare retreat to the secret, quiet place over the ocean where she could fly in peace and tranquility. She had to remain fully conscious of her surroundings. Instead, she focused on her breathing; on remaining calm.
The sudden cracking of twigs beneath her yanked a small gasp from Mara’s open mouth, and she clamped it shut, praying she hadn’t been heard. The blond man appeared. He was younger than the first guy by a few decades, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, with long legs and broad shoulders. He’s better looking than Alex, she thought disloyally, as Alex’s handsome face and icy green eyes appeared in her mind.
You belong to me.
I belong to myself.
She shook away Alex’s image and refocused on the man now only a few yards from her tree. Her heart skittered painfully in her chest and she panted softly to keep from yelping with fear. If he looked up, would he see her? She remained still as stone, willing him to continue past her without lifting his head. To her intense relief, he did.
After he was gone, Mara realized her crotch and the backs of her legs were wet. She’d peed on herself without realizing it. Reaching back into her pack, she managed to extract the roll of toilet paper. She cleaned herself up as best she could, replaced the roll in the pack and slipped the used toilet paper into an outer pocket.
She remained where she was another half hour or so, before finally making the decision to move. Carefully, slowly, she inched her way down the tree, using the bumps and hollows along the trunk for toeholds and gripping tightly to the branches as she descended.
When her sneakers finally touched solid ground, she remained immobile as a deer for several seconds, only her eyes moving as she scanned the area. She saw nothing and heard nothing. Cautiously, she took a step away from the tree, and then another. Moving carefully through the tangled vines and spikey scrub, she worked her way slowly into the center of the woods, aiming for the high grasses near the bog with a vague idea of slipping into the water in the event someone appeared.
/> The distant but unmistakable cracking sound of a whip brought Mara up short and she froze where she was. After a moment, she heard men’s voices, another crack of the whip and a woman’s cry. Mara ducked quickly into a clump of bushes and peered cautiously out, her eyes fixed in the direction of the noise.
She drew in a sharp breath at what she saw through the trees. About twenty yards away, DJ stood beside Raeanne. He was holding her wrists together in one hand, her arms raised high over her head. The man DJ had called Jed was standing behind them, a long single-tail whip in his hand. He snapped the tail without much aim or expertise against Raeanne’s bare ass. Each time the whip made contact with her skin, Raeanne yelped and flinched, but DJ held her fast.
Mara didn’t dare move from her admittedly poor hiding place, afraid she might make a sound and draw their attention. Her heart ached for Raeanne. How dare you, you sadistic, fucking bastards! You bullies, you pigs, you monsters! Mara’s body quivered with the suppressed desire to race toward the men and hurl them to the ground with superhuman strength.
She didn’t have superhuman strength, and all the odds were stacked heavily against Raeanne and her. They were captive slaves on an island controlled by evil men who thought nothing of using and destroying others for their own wicked, dark pleasure. There was no way out, and no way to fight them.
Stop it. Stop your disobedient thoughts. Don’t make me punish you, Mara. You’ve done so well with your rehabilitation. Don’t reduce yourself to a zero again. Zeroes exist only to be beaten, starved and caged. You are my darling girl, remember? You exist to serve and please me. Stay with me. Make me proud.
Mara shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks. Angrily, she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Fuck you, Alex. Fuck this place.
She gasped, shocked at the words that had just entered her mind without her permission. What was happening to her? She needed to breathe. To calm down. To say her mantra, to let it remind her of what she was, of where she belonged, of why she existed. She closed her eyes, willing the protective words to wrap around her senses.
Dark Obsessions - Volume 2: Four Dark, Delicious Capture Fantasies Page 16
