Island Captive: A Dark Romance

by Jane Henry

  “One,” she grits out.

  I pause, my hand resting on her scorched skin. “But now that you disobeyed me, we’ll have to continue your training. And you’ll remain cuffed.”

  I deliver another solid spank.

  “Two,” she grits out through clenched teeth.

  “You’ll do what I say next time, or the consequences for you will be much worse.”

  The final swat lands with force behind it and she breathes out a strangled, “three.” She squirms and makes a sort of half-sigh, half-sob sound. This is where I would normally give my submissive aftercare. I’ve never done that for her, as she isn’t my sub, and I want her to fear me. But so far fear hasn’t gotten me as far as I’d like with her, so other methods of training need to commence.

  I lift my leg off hers and release her hand, flip her on my lap and cradle her tight. She might hate me, but I’m going to earn her obedience no matter what the cost. She hisses when her spanked ass comes in contact with the rough fabric on my jeans. Tipping one finger under her chin, I lift her eyes to mine. “Are you going to do what I say now?”

  She glares at me and I see a flash of something I’ve never seen in her eyes before. Is it vulnerability? Something about being taken over my lap brought out the little girl in her. Tears glitter in her eyes, her lips pointing down in a frown.

  “Fuck you,” she hisses.

  I clearly haven’t broken her. I almost put her back over my knee. But no. Spanking is only one of many tools I have.

  I gently push her off my lap and let her fall to her knees on the floor. I leave her panties on. I enjoy seeing them bunched up around her ankles as I force her onto her knees in front of me.

  “I told you if you didn’t watch that mouth, I’d find another use for it,” I say, reaching for my zipper. The anger momentarily fades in her eyes, and they widen almost comically.

  With her hands cuffed in front, still on her knees, she’s given no choice. I control this situation.

  My cock is rock hard after spanking her. Causing pain like that always awakens the sadist in me, the one who yearns to cause pain and discomfort. Memories flash before me when I let my mind wander, the pain I’ve inflicted over the years burned into my mind like a scorching brand on flesh. I’ll never erase those memories from my mind.

  “Open your mouth,” I order, fisting her hair and drawing her head back. Her mouth parts open and she stares at me. I lean in and rasp against her ear. “And now, you’ll show me how to use that mouth. Do anything funny, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t. Is that clear?”

  She gives the faintest nod of her head.

  She knows I’ve left her little choice but to do what she’s told. She also knows if I wanted to, I could have her spread eagled on that bed, taking my cock.

  But not now. Not yet. Not until she begs.

  I remove my cock, and slide it into her warm, wet mouth. Her eyes widen in surprise, then go half-lidded as she tentatively suckles.

  I haven’t had sex in so long, I have to stifle a sigh. It feels so fucking good.

  But this is about gaining control, not losing it, and I can’t let her see how her little mouth around my cock unravels me.

  “Good girl,” I say, guiding her head with my fist in her hair, shoving it back and forth so her head bobs between my legs. “That’s a very good girl.”

  I reach down and tweak her nipples while she sucks, making her moan and squirm. I knead them in my hand, palm them, then give lazy little pinches that make the buds harden and peak. Her eyes close and she sucks harder. I release one breast, grab her hair, and bob her head faster, fucking her mouth with savage thrusts of my hips. She gags, and when she opens her eyes, they water.

  Maintaining eye contact, I keep a hold of her hair, pulling it from time to time to guide her mouth on my cock. I’m drunk on this, and I need to come. “You like this?” I ask her. “You like being a slut for your sir?” Another sharp thrust of my hips and she gags, pitching forward, inhaling deeply through her nose. But she can’t help the little moan she releases around my cock.

  Fuck yes. Jesus Christ, this feel so fucking good.

  When I’m just on the verge of coming I pull out, release her hair, swing it in front and wrap it around my cock. I fist my swollen cock in my hand, watching her eyes go wide when she looks at the large length.

  “You stay there,” I rasp. “You watch me come. I’ll mark you, Nadine. Mark you as mine.”

  I shoot my load over her chest, watching it drip down her breasts like icing, tangled in her hair. It feels so fucking good I want to close my eyes and moan, but I don’t, maintaining utter composure. I have to remain in control. I will not cave.

  I keep my eyes on hers as I jerk myself off to completion, panting just a little, but not really winded.

  She sits stock still, her ass resting on the heels of her feet as I’ve instructed her, cuffed wrists laying on her naked legs. I lean in and meet her eyes.

  “Will you ever disobey me again?”

  “No, sir,” she says, her voice detached as if she’s doing her damndest not to get sucked into whatever this is we’re doing. She wants to remain aloof. Detached.

  “You want to get cleaned up? Now you’ve earned it.”

  I pull up my boxers, lift her to her feet, and walk her to the bathroom. I open the door to the standing shower, and stick her in, then turn on the water. When it hits her, she closes her eyes and sighs, shoving her breasts still covered in my come under the warm stream of water. I take the soap, turn her to face me, and lather the lemony suds over her breasts, belly, then lower still, between her thighs.

  I hand her a small bottle of shampoo I found in her luggage. I have all her clothes and toiletries from her luggage tucked away, and she’ll earn her things one at a time as I see fit. She gasps at the sight of the shampoo but says nothing, merely closes her eyes as she lets me dip her head back and lather the sweet, feminine-smelling shampoo in her hair. Now that she’s clean, I place the shampoo and soap aside so we can conserve them, and step closer to her. I run my hands down her slick body, my dick hardening again at the feel of her curves. She’s beautiful. Fucking beautiful. I want to bury my cock in her to the hilt and fuck her until she screams my name.

  I take my time exploring her curves and most sensitive parts, dipping my hands between her thighs and fingering her soft folds. I place my thumb on her clit, barely touching it, then plunge two fingers in her core. She arches and holds her breath, gripping the sides of the shower for support. I finger fuck her, never taking my eyes off her, until her chest flushes pink, her breath catches, and I know she’s ready to come.

  I pull my hands and fingers away, then clean them in the stream of water.

  “That’s enough for now,” I say.

  She slumps, defeated.

  “You disobeyed me, Nadine. And disobedience brings about consequences.” I snap open one of the two towels we found in the supplies here and draw her out of the shower. Holding her against me, I towel off her shoulders, torso, legs, and ass, then back up to her torso and neck. “You earned a spanking. And now you’ll learn that I can give you pleasure, or pain. The choice, sweetheart, is up to you.”

  She scowls as I finish toweling her off and let her go back in the room where she’s allowed a pair of panties. She has a few more days of training before I test her again like I did today.

  She failed this test.

  Chapter Nine

  Nadine

  Days run into weeks.

  Hell, who am I kidding?

  Every day at his mercy is a long day.

  We wake when the sun rises and fill our days with the necessary means of survival. My leg’s healing, though, and I’m glad for that. There’s no need for things like clocks or the like here. We rise along with the sun. Collect the food we need. Clean ourselves and our surroundings. He still hasn’t given me my possessions but rations them out little by little.

  First a bar of soap.

  Then my shampoo.

 
Last night, he produced a toothbrush and toothpaste, which I’m using sparingly. I know we’ll be rescued at some point, but I won’t wait. I’ll find a way to reach someone. Until then, I’m keeping vigil. Making sure I don’t fuck up enough that he really hurts me. So far, he’s whipped me, and forced me to my knees to blow him.

  He can be an asshole, and maybe he’s priming me because he touches me every night before bed. And I hate it, but the truth is, he makes me wet. I don’t want to stop him from touching me. He’s strong and powerful, and when he forced me to my knees, I felt arousal dripping down my thighs like honey.

  I hate him. I fucking hate him. But I give myself over to feeling pleasure when I can.

  What else do I have?

  I do want these fucking cuffs off my wrists, and not even so I can get away. Where the fuck would I go? Injuring him would be a dumbass move anyway. I can’t injure him until I have a plan to get away. Hurting him before then would only hurt me because the truth is, I’m depending on him for my survival. I can’t catch those fucking slippery fish. I have no idea how to even make the plumbing work in the bathroom. If I hurt him, I’d be eating nothing but berries, and for all I know those could kill me, so I’m fucked.

  If I disobey him, he’ll punish me. If I hurt him, I’ll pay for it.

  I have no choice but to go along with him.

  So when I finally climb into bed, I use my most compliant tone to plead with him.

  “Sir?” It still feels weird to call him sir, but he makes me do it, so I’ve almost gotten used to it. “Adrian” would feel weird to me now.

  “Mmm?” he asks, climbing in bed behind me. The man’s got some serious self-control. I mean, he climbs into bed with me every night nearly naked. And yeah, he jerked himself off a few days ago and is likely making good use of the shower in my absence, but he hasn’t done what he could have. I’m smaller and handcuffed, and there’s literally no one to save me if he wanted to force himself on me.

  It’s this knowledge that keeps me in check.

  “You said if I behaved that you would remove my cuffs,” I say. “And I have.”

  He slings an arm around my waist, a habit that I’ve grown accustomed to. It would be tender, if there was anything more than hatred between us.

  “So I did.” I hear him yawn. He worked his ass off today, gathering a large store of fish, then fashioning some weapons that look like sling-shots and crude knives. He’s been eyeing the water birds that come to feed early in the morning, and he thinks they’d make a suitable meal for us if we can catch them. We’ve had no luck yet, but the truth is, he’s kept me cuffed since we got here. How long ago was that? The days run into each other after a while. If he let me help, I might be able to catch more than he can but he won’t let me.

  “You think you’ve behaved enough to earn the freedom to have those restraints off?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say, as meekly as possible. I need to play this right. I don’t want him suspecting me. “And I know what happens if I disobey you. I won’t do something stupid just because you take the cuffs off.”

  A long moment of silence passes before he responds.

  “Alright, Nadine. You’ve earned this. But I’ll warn you that if you pull anything funny, not only will you get your ass whipped, I’ll find other ways to punish you, and then those cuffs will go right back on. Understand?”

  Hope blossoms in my chest. “Yes,” I nod, trying to keep my eagerness at bay so he doesn’t see. “Of course.”

  He pushes himself out of bed, pads around the small room, and goes to where he keeps our supplies. I curse to myself. So that’s where he’s kept the key.

  Not that the knowledge would have done me any good. I can’t remove these cuffs unless he tells me to, or I’ll pay for it.

  He walks to the side of the bed and slips the key in the lock. My heart slams against my ribcage. I’m so close to having my arms free again, I feel almost giddy. My shoulders ache from holding this position even in sleep and calluses have formed along my wrists where the metal chafes.

  With a click, the handcuffs swing open. He catches my wrists as they swing free and places them on my lap, then neatly folds the cuffs in his hand with the key and puts them back where the other supplies are. I roll my shoulders and rub my wrists, swinging my arms free happily. It feels so good to be free like this, that I smile softly to myself while he’s out of the room.

  He comes back in and cocks his head to the side. “You look pretty when you smile,” he says, his eyes warming to me.

  Oh no he doesn’t.

  “Thank you,” I say, closing my eyes so he can’t look at me like that again.

  I hear him get into bed next to me, then his warm flank presses against my back. Even though he’s my captor and I’m his prisoner, I enjoy the warmth beside me. I’ve never slept with a man before. I’m under no delusion that he’s anything but what he is. This is nothing even close to companionship here. But still, his body is strong, and it feels nice pressed up against me. Every morning, before we have breakfast, he goes for a run on the beach, and I’ve seen him doing push-ups and crunches at various intervals throughout the day, even pull-ups on a sturdy tree branch. He likes control, and controlling his body is no exception.

  So when he climbs into bed with me, I push my ass up against his pelvis. He hasn’t brought me to climax. But I’ve grown accustomed to the way he touches me beneath the covers.

  He starts slow and steady, one hand cupping my ass while the other travels up to my breasts. He palms my breast and cups my ass, never asking permission to touch me. Just touching, as if he has every right to. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts a thumb and circles it over my nipple. Just the faintest flicker of a touch, but my pussy clenches in warning.

  Oh, God. God, I need this so damn bad.

  “Good girl,” he whispers in my ear. Now is when he starts to fondle me. Just enough to make me wet, then he tells me to go to sleep. It frustrates me, but not so much that I wish he’d stop. But tonight, he does something different.

  “On your back, Nadine,” he rasps against my ear. Wondering what this means, I obey.

  He pulls the blanket down, revealing my pale, bare breasts, and brings his mouth to one hardened bud. I’m not breathing. I can’t. I’m caught up in a bundle of nerves. His warm, wet tongue laps against my nipple, circling it softly, while his hand goes down to my pussy. Without thinking, I part my legs. I close my eyes, giving myself over to this. He uncuffed me. Maybe tonight’s the night he’ll let me come.

  And as he starts touching me, my mind wanders.

  I don’t let men touch me. I never dated. My mother was a strong woman, but her taste in men blew. She dated loser after loser who took advantage of her, and I didn’t get why she kept dating them until I was older. Hell, someone had to pay the utility bills. And I decided when I was old enough, that someone would be me, not someone with a goddamn dick.

  Nothing gave me greater pleasure than to make my way in my career. I loved venturing into the darkest parts of the world and weeding the criminals out like worms from rot, coaxing them to come to light only to haul their asses to jail. I sought the basest criminals and escaped convicts. I slept well at night, knowing they were no longer threats to the innocent.

  But here… here in this isolated place that should be utopia, I’m alone with my memories and a sick, twisted man who hurt innocent. When I get off this island, the first thing I’ll do is see him pay for what he’s done.

  But I have to be patient. And I’ve always been patient.

  It’s the only way I can withstand the way he tortures me, bringing me to the brink of climax only to leave me there. I won’t whimper or beg, like I know he wants me to. I can withstand more than this. So if he lets me come, I’ll take it for what it is: momentary pleasure amidst endless days of survival. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Slowly tracing his finger along my thigh, he brushes the softest strokes against my skin. My pelvis wants to arch, needing him to touch me there, but I forc
e myself to lie still. A sharp suck on my nipple shoots arousal between my thighs like a bolt of lightning, followed by a slap to my pussy. I gasp, surprised at the shot of pain that zings through my core, followed by the heat of arousal.

  Mmmm. Yes. I can enjoy this.

  I can let myself enjoy this. For now.

  The pain of the spank he gave my pussy fades when he slowly dips his finger between my folds. My skin is on fire, my heart is skipping around in my chest, my breath is heavy and erratic, but I lie still. He traces the edge of my channel, just the faintest touch, before he swipes upward and skates along my throbbing clit. I cry out involuntarily, as pleasure rips through me.

  He’s been working me up toward climax for fucking days. I’ve ignored my need because I couldn’t control it, cuffed like I was and under his watchful eye. But I’m slick, so wet with arousal, so ready to fly. Softly, with a touch that seems impossibly gentle for a cruel, heartless man like him, he fingers my clit while lapping at my nipple. He circles his arm around me and grabs my other breast, now working both nipples while he strokes me so expertly, I’m going to climax hard, and soon.

  He takes his mouth off my nipple long enough to whisper, “You’re close, you ask permission.”

  Then he returns to torturing my nipple with his mouth and teeth, making my need rise. Soft but firm caresses take my breath away. Pressure builds and my womb contracts, preparing to hit my peak. “May I?” I whisper, squeezing my eyes tight. I can’t look at him when I come. I need to focus on the moment, and not think of who I’m with.

  “Not yet,” he growls. I want to smack him. I’m on the edge. I’m going to lose control, and he won’t let me.

  “Please,” I ask, keeping my voice as steady as I can.

  He laps at my nipple and releases my clit only long enough to plunge two fingers in my core. He flexes in and out, hitting just the right spot, so perfectly my hips buck. “Please may I come?” I ask him, feeling the sudden need to cry.

  The asshole. The fucking asshole. He did this to me on purpose. He wants me begging.