Chapter 18
The next morning I wake up to the luxurious sensation of having my feet massaged. It feels so incredible that, for a few seconds, I think I'm dreaming and try to avoid waking up. The feel of fingers kneading my foot is all too real, however, and I moan in bliss as each individual toe is rubbed and stroked with just the right amount of pressure.
Opening my eyes, I see Lisa sitting on the bed, gloriously naked and holding a bottle of massage oil. Pouring some into her palm, she bends over me and starts massaging my ankles and calves next.
"Good morning," she purrs, looking at me. I stare back at her, mute with surprise. Lisa has given me massages in the past, but usually only as a way to relax me before doing something that would make me scream. She's never woken me up in this pleasurable way before.
There is a half-smile on her sensuous lips, and I can't help feeling nervous. "Um, Lisa," I say uncertainly, "what . . . what are you doing?"
"Giving you a massage," she says, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Why don't you relax and enjoy it?"
I blink, watching as her hands slowly move up my calves. She has large hands. My legs look impossibly slender and feminine in her grasp, though I have well-defined muscles from all the running. I can feel the calluses on her palms scratching lightly against my skin, and I swallow, the unbidden thought that those hands belong to a killer entering my mind.
"Turn over," she says, tugging on my legs, and I plop over on my belly, still feeling nervous. What is she up to? I don't like surprises when it comes to Lisa.
She starts kneading the back of my legs, unerringly finding the areas most sore from yesterday's race, and I groan as tight muscles begin to loosen up under her skilled fingers. Still, I can't relax completely; Lisa is far too unpredictable for my peace of mind.
Apparently sensing my unease, she bends over me and whispers in my ear, "It's just a massage, my pet. No need to be so worried about it."
Somewhat reassured, I let myself relax, sinking into the comfort of my mattress. Lisa's hands are magic; I've had professional massages that were nowhere near as good. She's completely attuned to me, paying attention to the slightest change in my breathing, to the most minute twitch in my muscles . . . After several minutes of this, I no longer care about her strange behavior; I'm simply wallowing in the bliss of this experience.
When my entire body has been thoroughly massaged and I'm lying there in limp contentment, Lisa stops and shepherds me into the shower. Then she goes down on me, pleasuring me with her mouth until I explode in mind-blowing release.
At breakfast, I'm practically humming with contentment. This is the best morning I've had in months, maybe even years. By some strange coincidence, Sorn made my favorite food—Eggs Benedict with crab cakes. I haven't had anything this decadent since my arrival on the island. The food Sorn cooks for us is good, but it's usually on the healthy side. Fruits, vegetables, and fish seem to make up the majority of our diet. I can't remember the last time I had something as rich and satisfying as the Hollandaise sauce Sorn made today.
"Mmm, this is so good," I moan around a mouthful. "Sorn, this is amazing. These are probably the best eggs I've ever had."
She grins at me. "They did come out well, didn't they? I wasn't sure if I got the recipe right, but it seems like I might have."
"Oh, you did," I reassure her before I serve myself another portion. "This is great."
Lisa smiles, her eyes gleaming with warm amusement. "Hungry, my pet?" She herself has already eaten a sizable serving, but I'm on the verge of catching up to her.
"Starving," I tell her, bringing another forkful to my mouth. "I guess I burned a lot of calories yesterday."
"I'm sure you did," she says, her smile widening, and then she tells Sorn about how I almost won the race, leaving out the part about our fucking and my passing out afterwards.
When the breakfast is over, I'm so stuffed I can't eat another bite. Thanking Sorn for the meal, I stand up, about to go get a book for a relaxing reading session on the porch, when Lisa surprises me by wrapping her hand around my wrist. "Wait, Jennie," she says softly, pulling me back down into my seat. "There's one more thing Sorn prepared today." And she shoots Sorn an indecipherable look—at which point she immediately gets up and goes into the kitchen.
"Um, okay." I'm beyond confused. She had prepared something, but didn't serve it during the actual meal?
At that moment, Sorn comes back to the table, carrying a tray with a large chocolate cake—a cake with a bunch of burning candles.
"Happy birthday, Jennie," Lisa says with a smile as Sorn places the cake in front of me. "Now make a wish and blow out those candles."
I blow out the candles on autopilot, barely registering the fact that it takes me three attempts to do this. Sorn cheers, clapping her hands, and I hear the sounds as though they're coming from a distance. My mind is whirling, yet I feel oddly numb, as if nothing can touch me right now. All I can think about, all I can concentrate on is the fact that it's my birthday.
My birthday. It's my birthday. Today I turned nineteen.
The realization makes me want to scream.
I met Lisa shortly before my last birthday—and she brought me to this island shortly thereafter. If it's my birthday today, then nearly a year has passed since my abduction—since I've been here, at Lisa's mercy and entirely isolated from the rest of the world.
A year of my life has passed in captivity.
I feel like I'm suffocating, like all air had left the room, but I know it's just an illusion. There's plenty of oxygen here; I simply can't seem to breathe in any.
"Jennie?" Sorn's voice somehow penetrates the din in my ears. "Jennie, are you all right?"
I finally manage to draw in some much-needed air, and I look up from the cake. Sorn is staring at me with a puzzled frown on her face, and Lisa is no longer smiling. Instead she looks like a dangerous stranger again, her gaze filled with something dark and disturbing.
Holding myself together with superhuman effort, I squeeze out a shaky smile. "Of course. Thank you for the cake, Sorn."
"We wanted to surprise you," she says, her features smoothing out as she takes my words at face value. "I hope you have some room left for dessert. Chocolate cake is your favorite, right?"
The ringing in my ears intensifies. "Um, yes." Despite my best attempts, my voice sounds choked. "And you definitely surprised me."
"Leave us, Sorn," Lisa says sharply, glancing at her. "Jennie and I need to be alone right now."
Sorn blinks, obviously taken aback by Lisa's tone. I've never heard her speak like that to her before. Nevertheless, she obeys immediately, practically running up the stairs to her room.
I haven't seen Lisa this angry in a while and I know I should be frightened, but at this moment, I can't seem to bring myself to care about what's to come. Every muscle in my body is trembling with the effort to contain the terrible storm I can feel brewing inside me, and it's a relief to have Sorn away from here. A year. It's been a fucking year. The rage that's building inside me is unlike anything I've ever experienced before; it's like a dam has broken and would not be contained. A red mist descends on me, veiling my vision, and the ringing in my ears grows louder as my emotions spin out of control.
As soon as Sorn is out of sight, I explode. I'm no longer rational or sane; instead I'm fury personified. I grab at the nearest thing I can reach—the chocolate cake—and throw it across the room, the dark-colored icing splattering everywhere. My plate and cup follow, hitting the wall and shattering into a million pieces, and all the while, I hear screaming, coming at me from far away. Some still-functioning part of my brain realizes that it's me—that it's my own screams and curses I'm hearing—but I can't stop it any more than I can contain a typhoon. All the anger, terror, and frustration of the past year has boiled to the surface, erupting in a lava of fierce rage.
I don't know how long I exist in that mindless state before steely arms wrap around me from the back, imprisoning me in a familiar embrace. I kick and scream until my voice grows hoarse, but my struggles are futile. Lisa is far, far stronger than me, and she uses that strength now to subdue me, to hold me tight until I completely exhaust myself and slump against her in defeat, tears running down my face.
"Are you done?" she whispers in my ear, and I can hear the familiar dark note in her tone. As usual, I find it both sinister and arousing, my body now conditioned to crave the pain that's to come—and the mind-shattering bliss that inevitably accompanies it.
I shake my head in response to her question, but I know that I am done, that whatever it was that came over me has passed, leaving me drained and empty.
Lisa turns me around in her arms, so that I'm facing her. I stare up at her, my tear-glazed gaze helplessly drawn to the perfect symmetry of her features. Her high cheekbones are tinged with a hint of color, and there is something disquieting in the way she looks at me—as though she wants to devour me, to tear out my soul and swallow it whole. Our eyes meet, and I know that I'm standing on the edge of a precipice right now, that a sinkhole is opening up underneath my feet.
And in that moment, I see things clearly.
I am not angry because I've been imprisoned on the island for an entire year. No, my rage goes far, far deeper. What burns me up inside is not the fact that I've been a captive this whole time—it's that I've grown to like my captivity.
Over the past few months, I have somehow come to terms with my new life. I've grown to enjoy the calm, relaxing rhythms of the island. The ocean, the sand, the sun—it's about as close to paradise as anything I can imagine. Freedom and all that it implies is now just a vague, impossible dream. I can barely picture the faces of those I left behind; they are just blurry, shadowy figures in my mind. The only thing that matters to me now is the person holding me in her hard embrace.
Lisa—my captor, my lover.
"Why, Jennie?" she asks, almost soundlessly. Her arms tighten around me, her fingers digging into the soft skin of my back. When I don't reply, her expression darkens further. "Why?"
I remain silent, unwilling to take that last, irrevocable step. I can't bare myself to Lisa like that. I just can't. She's already taken far too much from me; I can't let her have this too.
"Tell me," she orders, one hand sliding up to twist in my hair, forcing my neck to bend backwards. "Tell me now."
"I hate you," I croak, gathering the last shreds of my defiance. My voice is like sandpaper, hoarse from all the screaming. "I hate you—"
Her eyes flash with fire. "Is that right?" she whispers, leaning over me, still holding me arched helplessly against her. "You hate me, my pet?"
I hold her gaze, refusing to blink. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes," I hiss, "I hate you!" I need to convince her of my hatred because the alternative is unthinkable. She can't know the truth. She just can't.
Lisa's face hardens, turning to ice. In one swift motion, she sweeps the remaining dishes off the kitchen table onto the floor and pushes me onto the table, forcing me to bend over, my face sliding on the smooth wooden surface. I try to kick back with my legs, but it's useless. She's gripping the back of my neck with one strong hand, and then I hear the menacing sound of a belt being unbuckled.
I kick back harder, and actually manage to make contact with her leg. Of course, it gains me nothing. I can't escape from Lisa. I will never be able to escape from Lisa.
She leans over me, pressing me into the table, her hard fingers tightening around the back of my neck. "You're mine, Jennie," she says harshly, her body dominating me, arousing me. "You belong to me, do you understand? Each and every single part of you is mine." Her erection presses against my buttocks, its uncompromising hardness both a threat and a promise.
She rears back, still holding me down with one hand on my neck, and I hear the sibilant whisper of a belt being pulled from its loops. A moment later, my dress is flipped up, exposing my lower body. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for what's to come.
Thwack. Thwack. The belt descends on my ass, over and over again, each strike like fire licking at my thighs and buttocks. I can hear my own cries, feel my body tensing with each blow, and then the pain propels me into that strange state where everything is turned upside down—where pain and pleasure collide, become indistinguishable from one another, and my tormentor is my only solace. My body softens, melts, each stroke of the belt starting to feel more like a caress, and I know that I somehow need this right now—that Lisa has tapped into that dark, secret part of myself that is a mirror image of her own twisted desires. It's a part of me that longs to give up control, to lose myself completely and just be her.
By the time Lisa stops and turns me over, there isn't an ounce of defiance left in my body. My head is swimming from an endorphin rush more powerful than anything I have ever experienced, and I'm clinging to her, desperate for comfort, for sex, for anything resembling love and affection. My arms twine around Lisa's neck, pulling her down on the table with me, and I revel in the taste of her, in the deep, hungry kisses with which she consumes my mouth. My backside feels like it's on fire, but it doesn't diminish my lust one bit; if anything, it intensifies it. Lisa has trained me well. My body is conditioned to crave the pleasure that I know comes next.
She fumbles with her jeans, opening the zipper, and then she's inside me, entering me with one powerful thrust. I shudder with relief, with ecstasy that borders on agony, and wrap my legs around her waist, taking her deeper, needing her to fuck me, to claim me in the most primitive way possible.
"Tell me, baby," she whispers in my ear, her lips brushing against my temple. Her right hand slides into my hair, holding me immobile. "Tell me how much you hate me." Her other hand finds the place where we're joined, rubs there, then moves down a couple of inches to my other opening. "Tell me . . ."
I gasp as her finger pushes into my anus, my senses overwhelmed by all the conflicting sensations. Dazed, I open my eyes and stare at Lisa, seeing my own dark need reflected on her face. She wants to possess me, to break me so she could put me back together, and I can no longer fight her on this.
"I don't hate you." My words come out low and raspy, and I swallow to moisten my dry throat. "I don't hate you, Lisa."
Something like triumph flashes on her face. Her hips thrust forward, her shaft burrowing deeper inside me, and I suppress a moan, still holding her gaze.
"Tell me," she orders again, her voice deepening. Her eyes are burning into mine, and I can no longer resist the demand I see there. She wants all of me, and I have no choice but to give it to her.
"I love you." My voice is barely audible, each word feeling like it's being wrenched out of my very soul. "I don't hate you, Lisa . . . I can't . . . I can't because I love you."
I can see her pupils dilating, turning her eyes darker. Her cock swells within me, even thicker and harder than before, and then she pulls out and slams back inside, making me gasp from the savagery of her possession.
"Tell me again," she groans, and I repeat what I said, the words coming easier the second time around. There's no point in hiding from the truth anymore, no reason to lie. I have fallen head over heels for my sadistic captor, and nothing in the world can change that fact.
"I love you," I whisper, my hand moving up to cradle her cheek. "I love you, Lisa."
Her eyes darken further, and then she bends her head, taking my mouth in a deep, all-consuming kiss.
Now I am truly her, and she knows it.