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He spent hours wresting powerful orgasms from her with his cock, his fingers, his mouth, but always at a price. Each bout of pleasure must be matched by a gift (his word) of pain that included whipping, spanking, forced submersion in the bucket, and intense bondage with rough rope that forced her body into contorted positions as it cut into her pussy and turned her breasts an angry purple in its confines.
Though Mara still burned with the idea of escape, so far she’d found no way out. All the other girls seemed to have completely resigned themselves to the situation, and it was clear, at least for now, she would find no ally among them. Meanwhile, as horrifying as it was to admit, life on the island had begun to settle into a kind of routine starting with calisthenics, followed by grooming, grace and deportment training with Dawn, her personal workout regime with Curtis and the intensive sessions with Alex.
Yesterday, however, there’d been a variation in the schedule. That afternoon Curtis had taken the girls out to a clearing on the far side of the island, where they’d been forced to run obstacle courses, climb trees and hide in the woods, one at a time, while the other girls sought them out. If a girl was found before the thirty-minute time frame Curtis had imposed, he tied her to a tree and hit her with a stinging switch he’d made from a tree branch. Only Joanie, Esmé and Whitney had succeeded in hiding long enough to avoid the whipping. Mara had been so exhausted after the bizarre exercise, which had gone on until dark, that she’d skipped dinner, opting instead for a long, hot bath and early bed.
Now, running along the beach as the sun rose in the sky, she asked Raeanne, “What was that all about yesterday in the woods? It’s like we’re being trained for some kind of survival camp.”
Raeanne glanced around with a nervous air. Curtis was behind them, out of earshot. Still, she whispered her reply close to Mara’s ear as they jogged. “It’s the hunt.”
“The hunt?”
All at once a conversation she didn’t realize she’d remembered slithered like a snake into her consciousness, along with Dan Wallace’s leering face. She’ll give the guys a run for their money during the next hunt. Though the morning air was warm, an icy shiver moved along Mara’s spine.
“We’re not supposed to talk about it, so be careful what you say. Most of the girls here have already been through it but they won’t say much, except to warn me with vague hints that it’ll be my turn soon. All any of them will say when I try to feel them out is that Alex had forbidden them to say anything. Apparently whatever he’s threatened them with is bad enough that they’ve stayed quiet about it, even when no one’s listening. But I can guess,” Raeanne added darkly.
“It sounds horrible,” Mara exclaimed. “Like something out of a nightmare.”
“Yeah, I know. And we’ll be next. You, me and Cassie, since we’re the newest ones here. It’s pretty brutal, from the little I’ve been able to gather.”
Faceless men in camouflage brandishing rifles and knives erupted like demons in Mara’s mind, a terrified, naked woman covered in blood lying at their feet. “Jesus!” she blurted, shaking her head to dislodge the unwelcome image.
“Shh. Keep your voice down,” Raeanne whispered furiously. “Curtis will hear us.”
The whistle shrilled suddenly beside them, making both girls jump. Curtis had pulled up alongside them in his golf cart. Thankfully, he was grinning rather than scowling. “Quit yakking and pick up the pace, girls. You’re slowing down the line. Let’s go. Lift those knees. One-two, one-two!”
After breakfast the girls were taken to the resort building, to which she hadn’t returned since Alex had forced her to watch Joanie’s session in the two-way mirror. Instead of going to the observation room, this time Mara was herded along with the other girls into the dressing suite.
They were instructed to wash and condition their hair at a bank of sinks, and then report to the chairs in front of the huge lighted mirrors. Two silent men in the island uniform of black and white moved along the line of seven girls, expertly blow drying and styling their hair.
When Mara’s hair was done, Dawn took her to a huge closet that contained rack after rack of gowns and silky lingerie, plus row upon row of high heels and strappy sandals.
“Hmm,” Dawn said, tapping her manicured fingernail against her chin as she surveyed the dresses. “I think this one.” She pulled a long, shimmery gown from the rack. “It will go well with your coloring.” She thrust it into Mara’s arms. “Go on. Put it on.”
“Underwear?” Mara asked uncertainly.
Dawn shook her head. “You don’t need it. Those breasts of yours are nice and perky. Our guests will want to see your pretty pink nipples when they’re making their selections.” She bent down and held up a pair of flat-soled gold sandals. “You’re tall and some of today’s guests are a bit on the short side, so we’ll go with these.”
