by Jane Henry
She’ll want off this island. She’ll want to find a way to contact the authorities or construct a getaway boat or whatever the fuck. That isn’t happening. We’re too far away with too limited supplies.
A rescue crew, however… that could pose a problem.
She’ll earn lots of things when she behaves herself. Cuffs off. Some of the personal belongings I found in her bag.
Orgasms, when the time is right.
But she’s got a long fucking way to go.
She mutters to herself, but it’s soft enough that I allow it to pass without recourse. As it is, she’s sore as fuck and will be marked after that spanking I gave her.
“Oh,” she says suddenly, her voice higher in pitch and losing the snark. Startled, even. She points her cuffed hands in front of her, one finger waving at a splash of vibrant color behind a shade of leafy green bushes. I squint my eyes and peer.
“Berries?”
For a moment—just one moment—we’re partners in this. We walk as one, hope rising between us, when the brush opens to an enormous cluster of bright red berries. She reaches out to grab one, but I stop her with a sharp command.
“Stop! You don’t touch those yet.”
She turns to me, frowning. “I wasn’t going to eat it,” she says. “Just touch it.”
“Poisonous berries could have you contorted in pain for hours, or kill you,” I say. “We’ll have to test them out first. Even touching your skin with the juice could hurt you.”
Her light blue eyes look troubled as she pulls her hands away obediently. “And how do we test them?” Then she shakes her head, the sardonic edge in her voice returning. “Oh, I know. You’ll have me eat them first. And if I don’t scream in agony or die, they’ll be good enough for you.”
She deserves another spanking just for the insinuation. But not now. Not yet.
“Hold your tongue,” I order. Her lips purse together tightly. “I would not do that, no. I have no intention of killing you, or taking a risk with your life.”
She looks like she wants to roll her eyes, but as soon as she starts she stops herself and shakes her head. When she speaks, she’s nothing but sincere.
“What’s your plan, then?”
Like I need to tell her my plan.
“You’re my captive,” I tell her, with no remorse. “You’ll be my companion here. But since you can’t be trusted, you’ll be trained first. In obedience. Deference to me as your authority. Only then will you earn more freedom.” I shrug. “And only after I feel you’ve done due recourse for what you’ve done. The reality is, I have no intention of being here alone, and will do what I can to prevent that from happening.”
“Huh,” she says with a sardonic huff of breath, a humorless laugh that makes her face look uncharacteristically cruel. “Here’s an idea. Knock me up, then you’ll have children to keep you company. You can look after them like Tarzan of the jungle, and what happens to me after that will be inconsequential.”
“That’s enough, Nadine.” Though my tone is soft, I know she understands I mean what I say when her mouth clamps shut, and she looks away.
“What you don’t know,” she says, not meeting my eyes. “Is that I can’t have children anyway.” She says it with both pain and pride, as if she’s trying to hurt me but only ended up hurting herself.
I wonder for a moment if I should press on, demanding that she tell me more, but I decide to let it go.
In time… I’ll know everything there is to know about her.
“There are ways to test these berries for poison,” I tell her. “I need to inspect them closely, and test the juice on skin first, then lips, and eventually we can taste them. If they’re poisonous, we’ll know. Red berries are usually fine, though. The darker they are, the more likely they are to be edible.”
“How do you know all this stuff?”
I shrug. “Researched remote islands heavily. I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, so I wanted to be prepared. I needed to know how to survive in the wilderness.”
“Lucky me,” she mutters, but I can tell she’s actually pleased.
She nods, licking her lips as she stares at the heavy branches laden with what looks like luscious fruit. The truth is, though, as important as a food source is for now, we need water more than anything. I take a strip of fabric out of my pocket, one of the remaining pieces from her shredded pants I kept in case I needed to secure her further. Her eyes widen, her body tensing as she watches. I raise a brow at her.
“Do I need to gag you?” I ask, like a stern teacher correcting an errant student.
She shakes her head silently. I will train her if it kills me.
“Answer properly, or I will gag you.”
“No, sir,” she says, her voice soft but her eyes hardened.
“Good,” I say with a forced smile, watching her as I take the strip and tie it on a low, thin branch that overhangs the berry bushes in front of us. A faint flush colors her cheeks when she realizes I intended to mark our spot, not gag her. I toss her a wink to unsettle her. She looks away quickly.
“Come on,” I say. “We’ll come back here later and watch for wildlife, see if they consume these berries. The good news is, even if the berries are poisonous, they provide a food source to any potential wildlife. If we can draw out small rodents and heavier birds, we’ll find a good source of nutrition.”
She grimaces but doesn’t reply. Hell, the thought of eating roasted squirrel doesn’t exactly appeal to me either, but I’m not much of a fan of starvation.
“You know, there was a sound of water near our shelter,” she says, as if the idea just occurred to her.
“A sound of water.”
“Like running water,” she says, almost shyly.
“And you’re just now thinking of telling me this?” I ask, but I try to keep my tone light. I’m not angry at her.
“Well,” she says. “Other things… came up.”
I huff out a laugh, surprising even myself. “Well, let’s go back and investigate then. It’s time to have a little something to eat, too.”
“Already?” she asks curiously, quirking a brow at me.
“I fed you three hours ago,” I said.
“Seriously?” She looks genuinely perplexed. “How do you know?”
I pull her over to me and point to the sun above us. “That’s how I know,” I say, but I’m only teasing. She looks up at the sky in wonder.
“You can tell the time by the sky,” she muses. “How very… Boy Scout of you.”
“It is,” I mutter. “I’d even know how to roast a fucking marshmallow if I had one.”
She blinks in surprise and smiles.
Christ. I’ve never seen her smile. People should be warned when girls like her smile. Men do shit like sell their kingdoms and prized possessions for smiles less vibrant than hers.
Fuck me.
But as soon as she realizes she’s smiling, she composes herself and sobers, the momentary happiness draining.
I school my own features.
We aren’t friends. We’re not even acquaintances.
Before we head back to our shelter, I need to explore a few more things, though. I know by my explorations this morning, my observations last night, and our walking today, that we’ve covered nearly half of the island. So far, I’ve catalogued no woodland creatures. Though I’m certain they exist, I also suspect they’re hiding, unaccustomed to inhabitants on this island. Birds have flown overhead but they, too, like the animals, seem frightened and quickly take off again.
Given our limited options, I’ve noted all of them as potential food sources.
Ahead of us, the forest breaks out into a clearing. When we walk through the final archway of leaves, Nadine gasps, unable to stifle her surprise at what lays before us.
A small, but beautiful beach, covered in white sand and dotted with delicate seashells, stretches before us. The bright blue sky is speckled with clouds. This beach is much larger than the one where we landed, and bette
r even than the gorgeous sand that stretches in front of us, there are dozens and dozens of sturdy palm trees heavily laden with coconuts.
I wonder why those who built the shelter chose to locate on the other side instead of here. This is the place of dreams, a utopia where people plunk down the big bucks to get to.
And it’s here. Ours. Our own little private island.
“Wow,” is all she says.
“It’s beautiful,” I agree. “Come on.” I lead her onto the sandy beach and kick off my shoes. She does the same. We walk silently all the way to the water’s edge, soft, hot white sand melding between our toes. “With a beach like this, I’m sure we can catch saltwater fish.”
“You know,” she mutters to herself. “I never really liked coconut or fish. But, something tells me I’ll learn to adapt.”
I huff out a near-silent laugh. “You’ll learn to adapt, or I’ll do the adaptation with you stretched over my lap. This is not the time to be picky.”
When we reach the water’s edge, she dips a toe in. “Oh, it’s warm,” she says. “Why is it warm now? It was so cold last night.”
“Just a different part of the island,” I explain. “There may have been a gulf nearby that filtered its cold water into it, and this one is more of an inlet.”
“You think it’s safe to swim in?” she asks.
“Hell yeah,” I tell her. I fully intend on doing just that. “But we don’t have sunscreen, so we’ll have to wait or we’ll end up roasted like lobsters or getting sunstroke. And both of those options suck.”
“Mmm,” she moans. “Lobster.”
“Yeah, sounds good to me,” I agree. “A big, fat, buttered lobster roll with a side of crispy fries. Sadly, no lobsters here.”
She frowns and looks away. “I really want a bath. You said we were going to bathe.”
“We will once everything else is secured.”
Her eyes suddenly shutter, her jaw tensing. “We won’t be here forever, you know. They heard us,” she says. “They heard us call for help and knew our coordinates before we went down. They’ll find us.”
“Will they?” I ask. “I don’t think so. Any records will show the plane’s crashed. And there’s no fucking way they have the resources to find us even if they wanted to.” It isn’t true, but I want to plant a seed of doubt in her mind. I don’t want her pining away for a rescue mission that will not come, but more importantly, I want her knowing exactly how long she’s here.
Forever. As mine.
Chapter Seven
Nadine
The rest of our trip back to our shelter passes almost completely in silence. We’ve found berries, the possibility of fish, and there are large birds flying over the water that Adrian insists he can catch and roast. My stomach churns at the thought. Hell, back at home, I don’t even buy bone-in chicken, and if I can find it already cooked, that’s excellent.
Those berries, though. They looked amazing. I eye them on the return route, and even see a bird picking at them. It’s a little white bird with a splotch of yellow on its beak, who nips at the ripe berries without thought of poison or shit like that, and I watch as he gobbles them whole.
If the bird can eat them and not die, why can’t I?
We walk back the way we came. Adrian explains that once we find a reliable food and water supply, we’ll be able to explore more fully. He estimates we can walk the entirety of this island in four or five hours, but he wants to be fully prepared for when we do.
Whatever. I just want a bath, and something to eat and drink.
Adrian holds several large coconuts he found by the base of the coconut trees. We’ll need more than this, but they’ll do for now. He seems proud of himself, but I am not proud of him.
He might have shown a little compassion today, but the man is still a monster.
Period.
And I’ll only obey inasmuch as it’ll help me avoid being punished.
I’ll fool him. Let him think he’s somehow broken me into compliance. And once he lets his guard down, I’ll make my move.
I don’t have a clue where we are, and I hope to God Adrian does. For Christ’s sake, I can’t tell north from south or whatever the fuck, so when he says, “Where was that sound of water?” it surprises me, as I didn’t know we were so close to our shelter.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I do know I heard it out the window to the left, while I was lying in bed earlier.”
He nods, and heads to that side of the cabin. I follow. It doesn’t take long before the sound of rushing water reaches our ears, and we both quicken our steps. We’re close, now. So close. If we found another source of saltwater, we’re screwed.
Please be freshwater I say in a silent prayer, something I haven’t done since I was a child. We have saltwater aplenty but need to be able to drink.
The sound of running water intensifies, getting even louder still, and with it, I hear the crash of water and the rushing of waves, birds twittering overhead. The sound of the water gets louder and louder. It sounds like a lot more than a steady gurgle, though.
“I think it’s around the bend,” Adrian says. “Sure sounds like it.”
My heartbeat quickens in excitement.
“Let’s take a left here,” Adrian murmurs. “Right past this bank of trees.”
We turn, and when we come past the trees, we both freeze.
The reason the water sounded so forceful was because there is not just a stream, but waterfalls. Twin waterfalls, crashing into the deep blue water below. Sun filters down from the sky, illuminating the beautiful space with colors.
“Wow,” I breathe, forgetting for a moment that I’m with Adrian. I don’t want him to think anything impresses me. If he believes I’m cowering in fear or have somehow lost my ability to be impressed, it gives him less control over me.
“Wow is right,” he responds.
“And I could actually swim here because the sun isn’t beating down so hard overhead, with the shading of the trees.”
“You could,” he says, turning to me with a slight frown, “If I let you. You can’t swim in restraints.”
Yes. Of course. I refrain from eye rolling but barely.
“Let’s see if this is saltwater.”
I nod and follow him. He bends at the side, dips one finger into the water, then puts the droplet clinging to the pad of his finger in his mouth.
He flashes me a full, bonafide smile, and I grin up at him. For one brief moment in time, we rejoice together. I’ve never seen him smile. I can almost believe he has good in him.
Almost.
“Fresh?” I ask.
He nods. “If it’s a waterfall, chances are it’s freshwater.”
I smile. “Excellent. And I can finally take a bath?”
The smile fades from his face as his eyes darken. “You mean now I can bathe you? Yes.”
A shiver courses through me. How naïve of me to think he’d actually let me bathe myself. Not after what he did to me last night. Hell, not after what he did to me this morning. Our walk around the island made this almost seemed like an adventure. But it isn’t. It’s a nightmare. It’s a fucking nightmare.
“Oh?” I ask, looking away, trying to pretend that the mention of him bathing me doesn’t make me feel all weird inside. I’m not turned on. I’m not aroused.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
He frowns, looking around us. Pulling at his beard meditatively, he mulls out loud in his deep, raspy voice. “It’s warm here, to the right, there’s a little, closed off portion that’ll likely be warmer than the rest, and won’t contaminate potential drinking water if we bathe there.”
But all I hear is blah blah blah bathe here.
His fingers reach for the clasp of his pants and I watch at the way his muscles around his neck and chest bunch. He unfastens his pants, pushes them down, steps out of them, and folds them into a neat square. He tosses the square on a flat rock, then reaches for his boxers.
My mouth goes dry. I
try to look away. I don’t want to see him naked. It’s too awkward, and what if I get aroused just looking at him? I can’t.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
But of course, I do. I watch as he stands in front of me clad in nothing but a trim pair of boxer briefs that do little to hide the curve of his lengthy erection, and the toned muscles of his ass. His legs are as sturdy as tree trunks, toned like a runner’s. The flat planes of his stomach are covered in fine dark hair that runs straight down his belly to his boxers.
I’ve never been with a man, and I will not be with this one.
It’s a virgin’s torture.
“It’s warm enough we’ll dry on the way back to shelter,” he says, with a half smirk. “Not exactly any cabana boys around here.”
“I’ll get eaten by bugs,” I protest stupidly.
He merely gives me a stern look and crooks a finger at me, giving me no choice but to come. I know if I don’t, he’ll punish me.
Plus, I’m dying to get clean. I still have crusted blood along my leg, and dried sweat on every inch of my body. My hair hangs in straw-like strands, and I have to admit, I smell like someone just dragged me in from a barn.
“What if I want to wash myself?” I ask, trying to keep my tone quiet so he doesn’t suspect I’m defying him.
He shrugs. “Maybe someday you’ll earn that privilege.” His voice hardens. “But you’re my plaything and I’m your master.” The words curdle in my stomach like spoilt milk, sending a tremor of nausea through me. His plaything.
Master.
He is not my master. But at the memory of him wielding his belt, I know my bravery means shit.
“How can you be my master?” I whisper. “We’re both humans.”
He stalks over to me, looming with the sun behind him casting him in shadow so I can’t see his eyes. “I’m the master of you because I’m stronger, and I’m the one who holds the power here.”
The asshole. He hasn’t seen the best of me. He’s had an advantage, and when those tables turn, he will see another side of me. My mother didn’t call me petite belette for nothing.
When he reaches me, I’m not sure what to expect. Will he hurt me? Punish me again? Spank me?
