by Jane Henry
But his harsh tone belies the tenderness when he commands, “Go to sleep, Nadine.”
I wait for the restraints he always puts on me but fall asleep before he ties them. It isn’t until I wake at dawn that I realize he never did.
Chapter Twelve
Adrian
Something changed when Nadine and I talked. It was the first time I ever felt free to tell her what happened the night Lori died. In my gut, I know that if I’d told her any sooner, she wouldn’t have believed me anyway. She had to believe I was the monster she hunted, or she never would have been able to do what she did.
It’s not like I’m an innocent. I was the one who left Lori alone. If I’d been in the room, she wouldn’t have been murdered. If I hadn’t left her in a vulnerable state of subspace, she might’ve been able to scream. If I hadn’t been the one they were after… the one they wanted to punish… none of this would have happened.
And I know that a part of me is a monster. The part that gets hard hurting innocent, vulnerable women. Hell, there’s a part of me that wishes Nadine would mouth off to me, so I can overpower her and strap her ass again. I want to hurt her. Mark her.
Only now it’s not because of retribution but simply because I fucking crave it.
She’s begun marking our stay here. At first, she did it covertly, but when I told her there was nothing wrong with noting the passage of time, we began to do it together. We’ve now been here together one full month.
Something’s troubling me this morning. I’m not sure what.
I walk to the beach and by the time I’m there I hit the beach at a full run. I need to master this monster inside me, tame it by beating it down. At home, I would lift weights until my muscles hit failure. It was the one thing in prison that kept me sane, the ability to shackle my monster with heavy, adrenaline-boosting lifting. To push my body to the extreme. To punish myself.
I have to admit, I love running on the island. There’s something tranquil about running alone in the early morning. Here, it’s even better. The occasional bird squawks in the air, though they keep their distance as if they know I’m ready to make them into breakfast. Waves pound on the shore and recede, the rhythmic crash and pull of the undertow better than the music I used to play on earbuds. I run before the sun fully rises, because once it does, the heat is wicked. Practically unbearable. It isn’t humid here but hot as fucking hell.
Today, after I’ve run until my legs give way, I fall to the soft, sandy beach. This was where we landed, here on this beach. Where the others met their fate and I earned my freedom. Ironic, in a way. I turn and look up at the sky. I frown when I eye large, dark storm clouds rolling in. We haven’t had more than a brief summer storm since we got here. No real storms to speak of. And there’s no telling exactly what this storm will bring.
I push myself up from the beach and brush the sand off my sweaty body, then run toward the water for a quick dip. I hit the waves head-on, dip in, then turn and swim for the shore. The sun evaporates the saltwater from my skin as I head back to the shelter. We need to make sure our shelter is secured.
I don’t restrain her anymore. Frowning, I pick up my pace, until I’m at a dead run.
I gave her one punishment after her infraction. Will it be enough to keep her compliant?
I break into the clearing near our shelter and stop dead in my tracks.
Is that… singing? I stop and listen.
It is. She’s in the shower, and she’s singing.
Why have I never heard her before?
She takes a short shower like she’s been instructed to do but continues singing even when the water turns off. I can’t make out the words, but it’s in a foreign language. French? I’m still standing there dumbly when she comes out, dripping wet. She stands there in the doorway, water dripping down from her soaking wet hair, then brings a blonde strand to her mouth as if to cover herself. She’s embarrassed that I caught her singing. Unencumbered by her restraints, she sings.
“It’s all right,” I said. “I just came to warn you there’s a storm coming.”
As if in cue, a massive crash of thunder cracks over the shelter. She jumps.
“Come on. Let’s make sure everything’s secured.”
She walks to her clothes and lifts a few things up, then looks to me questioningly. No restraints. Will I allow her to dress herself, too? She hasn’t yet.
I give her a nod, too occupied with what’s going on outside to focus on her clothing choices. She fumbles around while I shut and lock the windows, then I step outside to make sure the wood pile is piled against the shelter, and not in the open where wind can make it fly around and become a hazard.
When I return to the shelter, she’s still standing naked, staring at the clothes. This puzzles me, but I don’t spend much time thinking about it. I step over, grab a pair of her panties in my left hand, then rope my right arm around her. Leading her to the bed, I sit, and almost instinctively swivel her out in front of me. I lift one foot and slide it into the leg of her panties, then lift the other foot, and slide that in as well. Then I pull her panties up her legs and give her an affectionate pat on the ass.
“Good girl,” I say approvingly. “You like it when I dress you.”
“Well, no,” she sputters, turning as if to pull away from me, but she’s bluffing. I grab her hand as she turns to go and tug her onto my knee.
“You do,” I say. “there’s nothing wrong with that.”
I don’t have time for this. I should be making sure we’re prepared for the storm. But I can’t help reaching my hand to the back of her neck and pulling her face down to mine. I kiss her, my lips brushing hers gentle at first, then harder as my cock hardens. She may not yield in any way but this, but that’s enough. It’s all I need.
She moans when I tip her head back and cradle her against my arm, her hands wrapping around my neck as if to anchor herself. A roll of thunder rumbles just outside our door, with a groan, I release her.
“Gotta get ready,” I mumble, gently pushing her off my lap.
“Mmm,” she says. “Can we get something to eat first?”
Shit. All the food’s outside.
I look back at her, still free from restraints. Can I really trust her? Or is she playing me?
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.” I take her by the hand, not wanting to admit to her that I’m doing so to make sure she doesn’t pull any moves on me.
We go quickly, just as the first sound of pelting rain hits the roof. “Move,” I order, moving her along with a pull on her hand.
“Adrian, for fuck’s sake,” she mutters. I tug her in front of me and give her a smack on the ass.
“Don’t push me now, Nadine,” I say. “Just because I took the restraints off does not mean you’ve got more freedom. You do what I fucking say.” And I mean it, too. Something’s changed between us, but this isn’t part of it.
“When will it stop?” she asks.
I try not to roll my eyes. “I’m not sure,” I quip. “I missed the weather forecast this morning.”
She narrows her eyes and frowns. “Well that’s not what I meant,” she says. “But you said you studied these islands and I wondered how long they usually last.”
She’s right. I’m being a douchebag. “Yeah. Not long. Tropical storms like this come on fast and furious but move out as quickly as they come. Usually.”
She nods and takes another cracker. The sound of water hitting the ground catches my attention.
“Do you hear that?” I ask her. She frowns and nods.
“Yeah. It sounds like it’s… inside?”
She stands and goes to the door, peering into the main area of our shelter. “Oh,” she says, her eyes widening. “It’s coming in through the roof, right over the computer.”
I get to my feet and go to her. She’s right. It’s leaking straight over the computer. It doesn’t much matter, as the old thing’s defunct anyway, but water and electronics shouldn’t mix no matter what. And a leaking ro
of is bad news.
Within minutes, the clouds roll away and the sun comes out. There are four places where the roof leaked so badly, I’ll need to repair it immediately.
We do a quick assessment of the damage right outside our shelter. Everything looks miraculously unscathed, just wet.
“Well, I’ll have to fix that room, and immediately, before another storm comes in. It’s crazy how quickly the sun comes out again. There’s hardly a cloud sky.
“How are you going to fix that?” she asks.
“I found some tools in the shed. I’m going to have to make use of those with the trees around here,” I explain. For some reason, she frowns and looks disappointed but I’ve got shit to do.
“Can I help?” she asks, which surprises me. “I mean it’s not,” she tosses air quotes out, ‘men’s work.’”
“Yeah,” I say. “It is, though. But you’re strong, and you can help.”
She looks as if she’s going to keep on frowning, but I tug a strand of her blonde hair and give her a smile.
“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself, and I’m kind of a traditional guy.”
She cocks her head to the side. “A traditional guy who likes to hold heavy things for girls, and whip their asses?”
“No, Nadine,” I say, pulling her hair harder the second time. “The traditional guy who likes to be in charge. Now let’s go.”
We work for hours in the shade of the trees, but they don’t do much to protect us from the sweltering heat. There was a small axe in the shed, which if I’d found even a day ago would’ve stayed hidden, but now it comes in handy. I chop wood until my hands begin to blister and my shoulder blades ache from the swinging of the axe. Nadine piles the neat logs and will help me fashion them into some sort of shingles for a roof.
“Doesn’t really look like the people that constructed this shelter were carpenters,” she mutters.
“Yeah, definitely not,” I agree, swinging the axe again. “My suspicion is that they brought someone with them to build the structure when they came, but they did a basic job.” I shrug. “Better than if we were here with no help at all.”
“Yeah,” she says. She looks off into the distance. The pile of wood needs to be a lot higher than it is now, and there isn’t much left for her to do, since she’s already gotten us lunch and water.
“Why don’t you head to the beach for a little while? Just no more than a dip if you go in the water.” I don’t want her injured without me nearby.
Her eyes brighten at the suggestion. “Really?”
It will be her first trip to the beach without restraints.
“Yes,” I say. “Go. Just don’t be gone for too long and listen to what I’m saying.
No going in deep. Understand?”
“Yes, of course,” she says. I’m surprised when she heads back to the shelter.
“Where are you going?”
“To get my swimsuit,” she says.
I snort. “I can’t believe you have a swimsuit.”
“Well, yeah. I was living on a tropical island indefinitely. Of course I have a swimsuit with me. Did you think I was going to skinny dip?”
Snarky little thing. “I’ll give you skinny dip,” I growl, swinging the axe again. She leaves to change, and a few minutes later emerges in a hot pink bikini that takes my breath away.
I whistle and lower the axe. “Not sure why you brought that on a business trip,” I ask her.
She shrugs. “I wasn’t going to wear it outside the hotel.”
“Still,” I mutter. “Any girl of mine that dressed like that in public would end up right over my knee.”
For the first time since I’ve met her, she flushes, pink tinging her cheeks.
Yes. Something changed last night.
She looks away. “Well. Okay then. I’m going.” She’s flustered.
“Come here,” I say, crooking a finger at her before she goes. I lean on the handle of my axe, grateful for the brief break.
Slowly, she steps over to me, eyeing me as if she doesn’t quite trust me. I reach for her hair and wind the blonde locks around my fingers, tug her head back, and brush a kiss across her lips.
“Be careful,” I admonish her, dead serious.
She nods. “Of course, I will,” she says, then squeals as I give her a hard reminder swat straight across both cheeks. She walks away, almost skipping.
I used to think of her as the bitch.
And now. I’m not sure what to think of her. I’m not sure exactly what to make of us.
I go back to the wood and bury myself in work.
Chapter Thirteen
Nadine
I decide I don’t want to go to the little beach. I don’t like it, since it seems like it’s haunted with dead people. I can’t go to that beach without seeing the dead bodies torn to pieces on the sand and the lifeless body of Carlos. So instead, I go to the other beach. The larger one.
It’s a good, long walk there but I reason he didn’t tell me I couldn’t go here. Hell, he takes his morning run to this one often, and maybe he even meant this was the one he wanted me to go to. And when I arrive, I smile.
It’s more beautiful than I remembered. The sun beats down hot and welcoming. A beautiful blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds greets me, the breathtaking water stretching as far as the eye can see. The large beach of white, lined with rocks that look almost as if they were placed there by hand, but just scattered enough to show they weren’t. I shade my eyes as I walk along the beach feeling a lot lighter than I have in a long time. Maybe even ever. I’m used to responsibility weighing heavily on my shoulders, the weight of everything I need to do pressing in on me.
In front of me lies the most beautiful beach, my belly is full, and the fear that consumed me when I first arrived here dissipates.
I sit on the beach and bring my knees up to my chest. I don’t much care that I don’t have a towel to sit on, I’ll go into the water in a little while. I try to decipher this feeling I have, not really understanding it at all. But as it look out at the ocean it’s stretches onto infinity, I wonder… is it hope?
When sweat beads on my forehead it’s time for me to go for a swim. I long to swim so deep I can fully submerge in the depths of the ocean. But Adrian didn’t want me to go to deep, and I am not stupid. All it would take would be for me to get stung by a stingray, or to be caught in an undertow, or be far too far away for him to rescue me.
And when that thought comes to mind, I realize he would rescue me if I were drowning.
I frown, not really sure how I feel about this.
I dip my toes in, bend down and scoop the cool water into my hands and drop it on my shoulders and chest. The waves lift me just a little, lapping against the tops of my thighs before waning out to sea then back again. I want to dive in and ride those waves and let myself feel the freedom of being fully carried away. Floating. Free. And would he even know?
I don’t want to die, though. Not here. Not now.
I finally walk back to shore, and suddenly I’m very tired. We worked hard today splitting wood and I did a lot to help Adrian. He didn’t say I couldn’t sunbathe, and he isn’t ready for me to come back. I’m so tan from being in the sun every day, I won’t burn if I lie here just a little while.
I find a spot on the beach partly shaded so the sand isn’t too hot and lay down. Fully prone like this with my eyes closed, I bask in the heat of the sun. Clouds shift, and I’m no longer in shade. I toss one arm over my eyes, for the sun’s so bright even with my eyes closed it almost hurts.
My thoughts begin to jumble. Adrian’s stern face and bare chest, the tattoo on his back as he lifted the axe and swung it, wood splintering and falling, cleaved in two, falling to the ground. There’s something sexy about the way his muscles ripple and bunch, then let the axe fly with surge of strength and power. His bare chest drips with sweat in my mind’s eye, gliding down the valley between his defined abs. His biceps bulge with another swing of the axe.
I real
ize my breathing is becoming labored and heavy, a throb of need pulses low in my belly. My breasts swell and my pussy clenches as I play the memory of him swinging that axe over and over in my mind.
The axe morphs into his belt. He’s looking at me with that gaze that freezes me in place from its power, and he’s pointing to the bed. Then I’m over his lap, his strong thighs beneath my belly, he’s spanking me and I’m begging him to stop.
Sleepy and horny as fucking hell, I moan a little on the beach and touch myself. I play the memories over in my head and work myself hard and fast until with a little cry I come, right here on the beach, the sounds of my orgasm drowning in the crashing of waves.
I blink and take my hand away. I can’t believe I just made myself come with the memory of Adrian spanking me.
What the hell has he done to me? Is this fucking witchcraft?
I frown at the waves and sit up a little, looking at the waves as if they’ll give me an answer. Is this how Eve felt in the Garden of Eden, surrounded by beauty and bounty, unable to have the one thing she truly wanted?
I shake my head and I slump back. I’m so relaxed after the release.
You’ve been chronically sex-deprived, I tell myself. I’m a woman in her sexual prime at twenty-nine.
I should be having sex.
I wonder what it would feel like being pinned beneath his muscular, powerful body while he takes me?
I’m fantasizing about sex with my captor?
But then I remember how good it was when he finally made me come, strapped to the bed and at his mercy.
My body knows how good it feels. Nature doesn’t always listen to reason.
Still, I’m a little ashamed at how wanton my thoughts have turned while I’m laying here in the sun. I begin to drift, dazzled by heat and the aftermath of my orgasm. I turn to the side and nestle my head against my arms. I’ll close my eyes just for a minute. Just a minute...
I wake with a start, my body aches from lying in one position.
Or is it for another reason? I sit up, and my skin feels tight, like it’s stretched taut against my flesh and bones. I blink.
