Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  “What?” Mara took a step back, her hands fluttering of their own accord to her cheeks, the right one still stinging from his blow.

  “Are you deaf?” Alex rose menacingly from his chair. “Ask me to slap you across the face. And address me properly while you do it.”

  Mara looked wildly around her, as if someone might appear along the shore to save her, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Alex was glaring at her, something crazy in those icy eyes. Her voice shaking, Mara said, “P-please, sir, please slap me across the face.”

  “What? I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Please, sir”—Mara forced herself to speak louder—“please slap me across the face.”

  He struck her other cheek with his open hand. Tears sprang to her eyes, her ear ringing from the blow. “Ask me again. Tell me to do it harder.”

  “Oh, god,” she whimpered.

  “Do it.” His voice was like iron. “Or you’ll get much, much worse than a slap.”

  “Please, sir,” Mara willed herself to say, believing his threat, “please slap me across the face. Harder.”

  The backhanded blow caught her hard across the jaw, sending her stumbling back with a cry. Alex moved with her, catching her by the collar, looping his finger through an O-ring and yanking her toward him. Without releasing the ring, he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “Ask me again. Keep asking me until I tell you to stop.”

  “Please, Alex, I can’t—”

  “No,” he cut in, his voice a dagger slicing through her senses. “You can. You will. Ask me to slap you. Ask me again and again and again until it pleases me to stop.”

  Mara swallowed hard. This couldn’t last forever. Eventually he would tire of the game. He had to. Just get it over with. Do as he says. “Please, sir. Please slap me harder.”

  Still holding the O-ring to keep her close, Alex slapped her with a hard palm.

  “Again,” she whispered.

  He struck her again, his eyes sparking with lust and power.

  “Again,” she managed in a tear-soaked voice.

  Over and over he slapped her, sometimes hitting one cheek several times in succession, then alternating cheeks, never allowing her to anticipate the next blow. Her cheeks were on fire, her ears ringing, the tears streaming freely as she forced the single, hateful word over and over past her lips.

  “Again. Again. Again.”

  Finally, finally, he let go of her collar. Mara sagged to the ground, dropping her head into her hands as she sobbed. Strong arms lifted her and then scooped her up. Alex carried her back into the house. He moved through the living room and sat on a couch, Mara still sobbing in his arms.

  “There, there,” he crooned in a soft voice, cradling her as he’d done so many times before after a particularly savage training session. “You’re all right. I’ll work with you. If I didn’t believe in you, I would let Wallace sell you tomorrow. But I know better. You are still my girl, even though you’ve let me down. I’ll help you to become good, I promise.”

  He pulled her into a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head as he gently rocked her in his strong arms. Mara’s sobbing quieted. She didn’t focus on his words, but only on their gentle, soothing tone.

  After a time, he stood once more, Mara still in his arms. He walked with her through the living room, turning down a short hallway and entering a windowless space not much bigger than a large closet. He laid her on the thin, narrow mattress that sat on the ground against one wall, covered with a sheet. There was no pillow.

  “This is your room, zero.” He pointed toward a bucket and pile of newspaper on the opposite wall. “That’s your bathroom. You will be locked in here when I’m away. Get some rest before our first rehabilitation session. You’re going to need it.”

  Chapter 8

  Mara squinted in the bright light shining from the open door. “Naptime is over. Up, up, up,” Alex said briskly. She focused on his form, silhouetted against the light behind him as her eyes adjusted.

  “I said get up.” Alex strode the three steps it took to reach her and bent down, looping his finger in the O-ring on the front of her collar. He gave it a yank, dragging her from the mattress to the floor.

  “Get up on your hands and knees,” he ordered, staring down at her.

  As Mara forced herself up, a sudden, sharp cramp shot through her gut. “Oh,” she moaned involuntarily, her hand going to her belly.

  “What?” Alex said, taking a step back to regard her. “What is it?”

  Mara blew out a breath. “I, I think I have to go to the bathroom,” she said miserably.

  “Squat over the bucket and pee. There’s a roll of toilet paper there beside it.”

  Mara’s face grew hot as she looked beseechingly at Alex. “Not pee,” she whispered. “I need to use the toilet.”

  Alex lifted a brow. “Zeroes don’t use toilets. They squat like dogs.” He pointed to the pile of newspaper beside the bucket. “Spread out a sheet and do your business. Make sure to wrap the mess up in more paper when you’re done. Knock when you’re ready and I’ll let you out.”

  Mara remained where she was, frozen in place by his words. “Go on. Be quick about it,” Alex said with obvious impatience. He walked out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Mara rose unsteadily to her feet as her eyes readjusted to the dim glow of the nightlight set into an electrical socket by the door. She stared at the stacked newspaper and shook her head. No. I refuse.

  Her mind shifted from her bowels to her painfully full bladder. At least she would pee. The issue became suddenly urgent as a drop of urine escaped and rolled down her inner thigh. Moving in a kind of cross-legged dance to keep from peeing on the floor, Mara hurried to the bucket. Straddling it, she squatted and released her bladder. The urine splashed noisily against the hard plastic as she sighed with relief.

  She wiped herself with a few sheets of toilet paper and dropped it into the bucket. As she stood upright, another cramp twisted through her gut like a knife. Mara groaned, pressing a hand against the pain. Damn.

  Moving quickly, she grabbed a section of the newspaper and spread it on the floor near the bucket. Squatting, she tried to let her cramping bowels relax enough to release. Nothing happened for several long seconds and she sighed with relief. She would be able to hold it after all. That was good.

  As she started to rise, another wave of pain engulfed her and she crouched quickly back into position. She closed her eyes, humiliated and furious. When she was done, she wiped herself with the toilet paper, lots of it. She spread another sheet of newspaper over the mess and rolled it all into as neat a package as she could manage, trying to keep down her gorge as she worked, not wanting to add vomit to the stink permeating the small space.

  Stepping to the door, she rapped hard against it. Alex, who must have been waiting just outside, opened it immediately. He held a dark green garbage bag open in his hands. “Put the soiled newspaper in here,” he ordered, turning his head away with a look of distaste.

  Mara retrieved the nasty bundle. Stepping out of the room, she dropped it into the bag. Alex bunched the top and tied it into a knot. He pointed to the ground. “You know better. Hands and knees. Now.”

  Mara, achy and sore, bit back a sigh, though she didn’t dare refuse. She lowered herself stiffly to the floor. Still holding the garbage bag, Alex stepped around her and reappeared a moment later, the bucket in his other hand.

  “Follow me.” He walked through the living room into the kitchen, Mara crawling as fast as she could behind him on the hard tiles, hating him with every fiber of her being.

  Once in the kitchen, a small but sunny space with a table for two set in one corner, Alex opened a backdoor that led outside. Turning to her, he said, “You may stand this one time.”

  Mara scrambled gratefully to her feet. She stepped behind him into the fresh air and drew in a deep, cleansing breath. It was twilight, the air tinged with a dusky, pleasing blue. She must have slept longer than she’d tho
ught, which her rumbling tummy, now empty of its breakfast, confirmed.

  They stood in a small backyard, the lawn neatly cut, a wrought iron fence running the perimeter of the space, the sandy beach just beyond the fence. There was a large metal trash bin on the side of the house. Alex went to it, lifted the lid and dropped the garbage bag inside.

  He returned to Mara, a rock rake in his hand. Holding the rake and bucket out, he said, “Here. Dump the piss bucket in the sand over there and rake over it. Then rinse the bucket at that tap.” He pointed to a spigot near the backdoor.

  Under Alex’s watchful eye, Mara walked to the small gate set in the fence, lifted the latch and stepped out onto the warm sand. She dumped the contents of the bucket on the sand and pulled clean sand over it with the rake.

  Turning away from the house, she looked out toward the sparkling ocean. What if she dropped the bucket and rake and ran as fast as she could toward the water? She was a good, strong swimmer. She would swim as fast and as far as she could, treading water until someone appeared to rescue her.

  A hard hand clamped on her shoulder from behind. Mara jumped, giving a startled cry.

  “Stop dawdling.” Alex propelled her back through the gate and let it clang closed. He watched as she rinsed the bucket. She used the opportunity to wash her hands as well, and splash a little water on her face.

  They returned to the kitchen. Alex pointed imperiously to the floor. “Back down on your knees, zero.”

  As Mara lowered herself, she saw a bowl of peaches and pears on the counter. They looked wonderful. Hungry. Thirsty. Please. Alex walked to the counter and selected a peach from the bowl. He took a paring knife from the drawer and cut a slice.

  He ate the piece of fruit, his eyes on Mara as he chewed. The tantalizing scent of its juice filled Mara’s nostrils and made her mouth water. She swallowed.

  “Would you like some, zero?”

  I’m not zero. I’m Mara.

  “Yes, please, sir.”

  He cut another slice, but instead of offering it to her, he popped it into his mouth. Mara pressed her lips together and looked down at the floor.

  “Let me hear your mantra first.”

  Mara looked up, her exhausted mind not quite processing what he was asking. “My what, sir?”

  “Your mantra,” Alex said impatiently. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten it already.”

  Mara continued to stare at him.

  Alex sighed with exasperation. “I didn’t think you were so stupid, zero. We’ll take it slowly. Repeat after me. ‘I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey.’”

  Alex held the paring knife in his fist. He pointed the blade in her direction, his eyes glinting with sudden malice. “Say it,” he spat.

  “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey,” Mara said quickly.

  “’I am a cunt, a piece of ass.’”

  “I am a”—Mara hesitated involuntarily over the word but forced it past her lips—“cunt, a piece of ass.”

  “’I am the property of Pirate Island.’”

  “I am the property of Pirate Island.”

  He lowered the knife, using it to cut another slice of juicy peach. “There, now. That wasn’t so hard. Say it again. Put it all together. Say it like you mean it.” He ate the slice and licked his lips, his eyes fixed on her face.

  Mara took a breath. Words. Only words. She repeated them woodenly.

  “And again. Louder. With more conviction.” He cut and ate another piece of the fruit.

  “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey,” Mara said in a loud, if mechanical, voice. “I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.”

  Alex frowned. He ate the last of the peach and tossed the pit into the sink. “I don’t believe you. I think you need some motivation. I know just the thing.”

  He produced a dog leash from a drawer and moved toward her, clipping it to the O-ring at the center of her collar. Turning, he jerked her forward. He walked quickly back through the living room into his bedroom and on through to the master bathroom, Mara scrabbling and scampering in her effort to keep up with him.

  He unclipped the leash and moved toward the bathtub. He turned on the tap. Facing Mara, he said, “Do you like to masturbate using water, zero? You know, position your cunt under the faucet for a nice little water-gasm?”

  “I take showers,” Mara said, avoiding the invasive question.

  “You take baths now,” Alex retorted. He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the tub. “Get in.”

  Mara stepped into the tub. “It’s cold,” she said, stepping back as droplets of icy water splashed her leg.

  “It is,” he agreed with a cruel smile. “I’m not happy with your insincerity when you say your mantra, zero. Your heart just isn’t in it. Once you convince me you really mean the words, I’ll return the privilege of hot water. Until then”—he shrugged—“you’ll just have to endure.”

  He pushed her down, forcing her to a sitting position in the tub. Using the ring on her collar, he dragged her forward toward the frigid spray. “Put your feet up on either side of the tub so your cunt is positioned right beneath the faucet.”

  “Please, sir,” Mara begged breathlessly, her wet skin covered in gooseflesh, “please don’t make me do this. It’s too cold. Please. I’ll try again. I exist to serve, to suffer—“

  “No.” Alex cut her off the single hard word. “Shut up and do as I say. Now. Unless you’d rather I put your face under the faucet.”

  With a cry, Mara scooted forward along the porcelain and positioned her legs as instructed. The cold water cascaded down onto her spread sex and a deep shudder moved through her body. Her nipples were hard points, the areolas puckered with cold. The water pummeled her sex and, in spite of the cold, her clit began to harden beneath the forced stimulation.

  Alex crouched beside the tub. He reached across her body and placed his hands on her thighs. Using his fingers, he spread her vulva beneath the spray.

  As her body adjusted to the temperature, she focused more on the now somewhat pleasurable sensation of the water massaging her engorged clit. “Oh,” she breathed as a climax began to rise inside her.

  “Say it,” Alex said. “As you orgasm, say the mantra. Say it!”

  Mara said the words, barely finishing the last line before the relentless stream of water pulled another gasp from her lips. “Oh!” She shuddered as a spasm of hard pleasure made her jerk away.

  Alex pushed her back into position. “You’re not done yet.”

  The water didn’t feel as good now. Her labia were numb with cold, her clit over-sensitized from the onslaught. She tried to shift slightly to change the flow of pressure, but Alex held her in position. “Say it again.”

  In a supreme act of will, Mara managed to repeat the vile words.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Alex reached between her legs and pushed the plug into the drain. The tub began to fill with icy water as it rained down against her sex. With a yank of her collar from behind, Alex pulled Mara away from the faucet, causing her legs to flop down with a splash.

  As the water level rose, Mara began to shake with cold. “Please, Alex, please, sir. Let me out. I’m so c-c-cold. Please!”

  “Say it with conviction. Say your mantra.”

  “I exist to serve, to suffer, to please and obey,” Mara panted between chattering teeth. “I am a cunt, a piece of ass. I am the property of Pirate Island.”

  “Prove it. Serve me. Submerge your head under the water. Don’t come up until I tap your shoulder.”

  Mara stared at the man with speechless horror, the memories of his dunking her in the bucket that first nightmarish day looming dark in her mind. Even as every fiber of her being rebelled, Mara steeled herself to do as he said.

  Taking a deep breath, she slid beneath the rapidly rising water. She counted to ten, to twenty, to thirty. Come on. Come on. Come on. Let me up!

  Just when she had no choice but to emerge, h
er lungs burning, Mara felt the tap on her shoulder. She reared up, gasping for breath as the water streamed in rivulets from her face and hair.

  “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.