“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.
In a calm voice he said, “I would like you to begin practicing that same behavior. You will no longer meet my eyes unless you are instructed. You will also not speak to me until I initiate conversation with you. If you break these rules you will be punished. Do you understand?”
Nervously, I dropped my head and said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Bien. Josef, you may feed her.”
“Gracias, Amo,” he said.
I raised my head when I felt Josef touch my chin. I opened my mouth, hungry despite the churning anxiety and discomfort of having Marco watching. Being fed took some getting used to, but my hunger overcame my pride. I ate every bite.
Marco made Josef brush my teeth on the bed, having me spit in a paper cup, which I thought was ridiculous. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t be allowed to walk to the bathroom and brush my own teeth. Josef left and Marco took his place at my side on the bed.
I kept my eyes down, my heartbeat ratcheting up. Would this be when he’d want to have sex with me?
“You are a natural submissive, Angel. That is in your favor. I think we can make this work and we will both benefit.”
Anger burned like acid inside me. Being called a submissive felt like being called weak, and I hated the truth in that. I hated that I felt so weak. And how the hell did he figure I’d benefit from being his slave? I let my anger simmer, too afraid to lash out and face any of his mysterious aforementioned punishments.
My skin crawled as Marco patted my knee. Rubbed it. Pushed my skirt up and ran his hand the length of my outer thigh to my bottom. And just as he’d done with my breasts, he watched his hands on me, eyed my limbs and skin with interest and care, like the upholstery of a fine new car.
“You will like your new home, Angel. Many have called it Paradise.”
I gave a small nod.
The boat began to move and I realized with a grasping, frightened feeling we were leaving the Cuban port already. I swallowed hard.
“I have sent Fernando away, Angel. You will never have to see him again. He has put us both in quite a predicament, yes? But we will make the best of this arrangement.” He thought for a moment, seeming pleased. “Perhaps it was meant to be.”
Meant to be? Oh, so now he was feeling glad about his new acquisition? Now that he knew I wouldn’t fight? I didn’t want to be his object! I didn’t belong to him, and this was not fucking meant to be! How dare he?
Hot anger churned inside my clenched abdomen, running down my arms and legs, making my feet and hands tingle. I clamped my jaw down hard, grinding my teeth together. With a last pat on my knee Marco left me again. And this time I was too filled with rage to cry.
Throughout the next few days I overheard conversations about pushing the yacht—raising the knots to its maximum speed to get us at our destination faster. I knew this was because of me. Marco seemed extremely tense about what he’d find waiting for him at his villa in Spain, which brought me immense hope.
During the quick stop in Cuba someone had purchased hair dye for me. Perla colored my dirty blonde hair a chestnut brown, and she’d given me a spray tan to make me even darker. I looked like a strange, exotic version of myself.
My stomach had begun to hurt as we entered the Mediterranean, and it had nothing to do with nerves. I hadn’t gone to the bathroom during our entire four days on the boat. When I was younger I suffered constipation whenever we traveled from home. I’d forgotten the discomfort of it—the hardness in my abdomen and stiffness in my lower back.
But how was I supposed to relieve myself with someone always watching? It would be the ultimate shame and embarrassment. I could only hope I wouldn’t need a constant babysitter when we got to this so-called paradise, and I could have a little privacy in the bathroom. Surely I’d earned that. I’d been quiet and cooperative the entire four days. Nobody came to hurt me or rape me again. My days were monotonous, and though my fears had slightly waned for the moment, I knew things were bound to get bad again when we arrived and I was expected to “please Marco’s patrons.”
My stomach turned violently each time I thought about it.
As we arrived at our destination, my curtains were closed and I was told to wait in the room with Josef. There was talk of unknown boats nearby, which made my heart bang with exhilaration. Maybe my parents had hired someone to track Marco, or the FBI was on his tail. If they saw me get off the boat I’d be rescued!
I must have had a look of hope on my face because Josef slowly shook his head, strands of brown hair brushing against the line of his chin.
“Master will no allow you to be seen, Angel. He have hidden entry for…ah…discretion. Y, nobody in Spain dare to attack. Master give very much to important men. Money y service.”