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Mara sat up and took the glass. She drank the liquor, though now it made her empty stomach queasy. The salve on her pussy was both soothing and anesthetizing, and though her skin was tender and sore, the pain was bearable. Dawn brought her an energy bar, something chalky and dense that Mara didn’t really like, but ate anyway.
Dawn directed her to sit on a vanity stool in front of the bank of sinks. She gave Mara a bottle of water, which she drank as Dawn blow-dried her hair and applied makeup to her face. “No more crying, do you hear me?” Dawn said as she patted cream beneath Mara’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes. “You get a pass on your first day, but after this, every tear earns a stroke of the cane. We must be beautiful for the owners and our guests. Do you understand, Mara?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mara replied, though she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that no, she didn’t understand a fucking thing, except that Dawn and these Wallace people and everyone in this place were out of their freaking minds and should all be arrested and put in jail for seven consecutive life terms each.
“There, that’s better,” Dawn pronounced when she was done applying the makeup. Mara looked at her image, surprised. Somehow Dawn managed to transform her blotchy, tear-stained face into a mask of youthful beauty.
Dawn clapped her hands and said briskly, “Use the toilet if you need to. Don’t dawdle.”
Mara sat on a toilet in one of the stalls, which had no doors, though the partitions on either side afforded some level of privacy. Her bowels were clenched too tightly to move, but she did pee a little, wondering as she did where the other captive girls were. Were they locked in those rooms along the hallway?
When Mara emerged from the stall, she washed her hands at the sink, avoiding the mirror. “Let’s go,” Dawn said. “I’ll show you your room and then Ronaldo will take you for your medical exam.”
With no choice in the matter, Mara followed Dawn out of the bathroom and down the hallway past several closed doors, listening hard for the sound of life behind them. Dawn stopped at the third door and slid back the bolt. The door opened inward, revealing a small room filled with natural light from the wide skylight overhead. The only thing in the room was a full-size bed made up with a yellow and white patterned coverlet, two plump pillows at its head. “You’ll sleep here when you’re not staying with one of our guests,” Dawn informed her. “That is, unless you misbehave, in which case you’ll find yourself sleeping in the punishment box.” She gave Mara a hard stare. “Trust me, you do not want to spend any time in the box.”
It didn’t take too much imagination to conjure a filthy pit filled with rats and crawling with insects, and Mara hugged herself, a shudder moving through her frame as they continued down the hall back toward the entrance. Ronaldo stood as they approached. He put a hand on Mara’s arm and led her from the building, Dawn walking beside them.
Once more, Ronaldo forced Mara into the passenger seat and drew the seat belt over her body. At least they hadn’t cuffed her. She was being compliant, and maybe that was the key. She would make them think she was going along with all this while she figured some way out of this nightmare. She had to get away from this evil island. She had to escape.
But how?
Chapter 2
Ronaldo glanced at Mara as they drove away from the quarters. “Looking good, chica,” he said in an approving tone, his gaze flickering over her face and lingering at her denuded crotch.
Fuck you. Mara bit back the retort and pressed her lips together.
Ronaldo drove along a path to yet another structure, a small, square building made with the same white stucco and red roof tiles as the other bungalow. The door opened as Ronaldo led Mara up the walkway. A large man in his forties with blond hair fading into gray stood waiting in the open doorway. He wore a white T-shirt that strained over bulging muscles and a pair of khaki shorts, a stethoscope around his neck.
“Ah, the new girl,” he said enthusiastically. “Nice, very nice.” Mara felt like a piece of meat as he eyed her hungrily. “I’ll take her from here.” The man placed a large hand over Mara’s wrist.
With a nod, Ronaldo turned on his heel and walked to the golf cart. The guy pulled Mara inside and closed the door behind her. The place looked like any private medical office, complete with a waiting area set with chairs and a low table that contained a spread of magazines, a partition window opening onto a reception area at the back of the room. The doctor led her through a door into a short hallway, the reception area on one side, an exam room on the other.
