She flexed her fingers, testing the strength of the cuff, but it held her fast. She was still thirsty, despite the water he’d given her. The welts from Gordon’s cane stung as sweat trickled over them. She closed her eyes, wondering if things could possibly get any worse. Then something brushed in a tickling, insect-like rush over her foot, and she squealed, jerking reflexively in alarm.
She saw something small and many-legged scurrying toward the wall—probably a spider and probably more frightened of her than she was of it. Still, her heart was hammering wildly against her breastbone, her breath ragged and hoarse.
Calm down. Calm down, she told herself. You’re going to have a fucking heart attack.
She willed herself to slow her breathing. Closing her eyes, she visualized the vast ocean and the clear blue sky. She lay on her back in the water, letting it buoy her up as a cool sea breeze stroked her skin. She drifted that way for a long while in a kind of trance, almost forgetting she was standing naked and bound in the box.
It was her bladder that pulled her, unwillingly, from the peaceful place to which she’d managed to escape. She opened her eyes, all her ragged nerve endings and aching muscles reawakening with a vengeance, along with a painful, urgent need to pee. She hadn’t been to the toilet since right after breakfast, which was hours and hours ago now, and that bottle of water surely hadn’t helped matters.
She danced from foot to foot for a while, trying to find a position that eased some of the pressure, but to no avail. She looked longingly at the bucket, imagining herself squatting over it, imagining the relief she would feel as she emptied her aching bladder.
The pungent odor of fresh urine reached her nostrils just as she registered the warm gush of liquid coursing down both legs. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” she said aloud, trying to stop the flow as she danced and squirmed, but it was no use.
“Fuck it.” What the hell—she had lost control of her bladder, she might as well go all the way. With a sigh of relief, she let the pee course down her legs and splash onto the floorboards in a puddle at her feet. It seeped away between the cracks, leaving only a dark, wet stain on the wood. At least her bowels were clenched far too tightly for that to become an issue.
How long was he going to leave her hanging like this? Would they let her die here? No. If they were going to kill her, she told herself firmly, they would have done it outright. But they wouldn’t do that—why kill the goose that lays the golden eggs? She and the other girls were the bread and butter of this place.
Alex said Wallace had wanted to sell her. Mara shivered at that thought, realizing with a small, painful shock that at least here on Pirate Island, despite the fact she was a sex slave, she had at least some semblance of safety and comfort, relatively speaking.
As long as she behaved.
What had she been thinking? What a stupid, stupid risk she’d taken. And now she was paying the price. Her arms were completely numb, her body coated with sweat, her legs wet with urine. How much longer until Alex returned? Would he let her down? Would he be angry that she’d peed on herself? Would he let her out of this stinky, sweltering box?
She tensed at the sound of footsteps and drew in a sharp breath. She bit her lip as she heard the sound of the padlock being released.
Alex!
She would apologize again. She would promise to be good. She would take whatever punishment was coming to her with as much grace and courage as she could muster.
The door swung open, the bright light momentarily blinding her. Mara squinted as her eyes adjusted. Alex stood in the door holding a long, coiled whip. He wrinkled his nose with obvious distaste as he stared at her. “Really, Mara. You’re disgusting. I’ve only been gone an hour. You disappoint me.”
He disappeared from the doorway, returning a moment later holding a hose with a spray nozzle attached. Aiming it low, he squeezed the trigger. Mara squealed at the sudden, icy cold blast of water coursing down and between her legs. He moved closer, aiming the spray directly at her pussy, letting the cold water pummel her sex for several seconds before he directed the nozzle upward, washing her torso and finally spraying her in the face as Mara tried in vain to twist away.
Calmly, he moved around her, spraying her back and welted ass, moving the hose over her until she was dripping wet from head to toe. Finally, he hosed down the floorboards at her feet. Stepping back, he released the nozzle, let the hose fall to the floor and kicked it away.