9. Yvonne

9

YVONNE

Istare up at him, waiting for whatever is about to come. I force my face to show nothing but a blank stare, not wanting him to know how much I’m dying inside.

My stomach has been grumbling nonstop for the past two hours, and it feels like my insides are eating themselves. His forcing me to stand just makes it that much worse. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

His deep red eyes stare, and I can’t look away. Trying to read his expression is like looking at a rock and expecting it to smile at you. Impossible.

Unable to control myself, my hands clench and unclench at my sides as the gnawing ache worsens. His eyes track the movement, but his expression remains the same.

“Beg.”

I blink, wondering if I’m so hungry that I hallucinated the word. Oarus gives nothing away, looking as stoic as ever.

“Huh?” I ask, still unsure if he really said it or not.

“Beg.”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. He sighs before speaking again.

“If you want to cook for me, for us, then you will beg.”

I just stare, wishing that it had been a hallucination. I can’t do it. I won’t. But as I wrack my brain, I come up with no other option. And then a thought hits me.

How much lower could I go?

I’m already worth nothing, doing this won’t change that. But at least it’ll get me fed. I have to.

So I swallow the tiny amount of pride that I have left and do as he says.

“Please.”

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

“Please. Please let me make us food. Please let me eat.”

He still seems unfazed, so I continue, a small whimper escaping me as I start.

“Please, Oarus. Please! I’m sorry, I’ll never do something like that again. I won’t even think about it. Just please, please let me eat.”

A tear rolls down my face, because I know that I’ll never be free. And there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. There’s no one that can help me, no one to get me out of this. Nowhere else for me to go.

“Please,” I whisper as another tears falls.

He holds up a claw-tipped hand, before using it to gesture to the desk where all the food lies.

“You may begin.”

I look from him to the desk before inching forward. I surveyed the items I grabbed, which wasn’t a lot. A bunch of seaweed, some edible plants I found, and a fish that I grabbed from a nearby pond in one of the caves.

I realize that my only option is to cook the fish over the fire in Oarus’ fireplace and make us seaweed wraps. A glance towards Oarus reveals that he’s settled onto his couch and is now gazing at me with nothing other than a look of pure curiosity.

I swallow my nerves and grab the fish before I realize that I don’t have the tools I need.

“Um, do you have a knife?”

A quizzical look takes over his face, and his eyes drop to the fish I’m holding. Understanding replaces the confusion before he reaches his hand out, pointing to a shelf on my right. I quickly find the knife and begin my work.

I take the ingredients to his kitchen counter and begin descaling the fish. Next, I gut it and clean it before cutting two filets out for us. Once I’m ready, I look around for something I can use to hold them over the fire, but I find nothing.

Oarus stands, walking towards the kitchen and grabbing a pair of skewers from a drawer. He hands them to me without saying anything.

“Thank you.”

I stick the skewers through the middle of each filet and kneel in front of the fire, holding them both over the flames until fully cooked. I walk back to the counter and begin cutting the fish into smaller pieces, moving as fast as I can.

The end result of fish and plants wrapped in seaweed is messy and rushed but doable. I’d probably eat the sand right now with how hungry I am, so it doesn’t really matter to me. And I doubt Oarus usually spends this much time on his meals before he eats them, so I don’t think he’ll care.

After finding two small plates on one of his shelves, I took one of them to Oarus. I sink onto the couch next to him, already devouring my wraps. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so fast in my life. And somehow, nothing has ever tasted this good.

“Slow down,” I hear him say, but I can’t.

The meal is gone too soon, and I long for more. Oarus’ plate is empty as well, causing pride to bubble in me at the fact that I was at least able to make something edible for him. Or maybe he just ate it to be kind.

“Did… did you like it?” I ask hesitantly.

“Yes.”

Oarus grabs my plate and his, marching away with them. I don’t watch to see what he does with them. I just stare at the bed that I was nursed back to health in last night, wondering why he took the time to save me.

He returns, but he doesn’t sit back down. Instead, he stands right in front of me.

“It is time for you to be cleansed now. You have yet to be washed since your encounter with that monster. I will take you to my spring pool and wash you.”

Horror runs through me. I didn’t think it could get any worse after the begging, but I was wrong. This is so, so much worse.

“No,” I say, knowing it will get me nowhere but hoping nonetheless.

“No?”

“No! I won’t let you do that, I’m not –’’ My protests are cut short as he scoops me up off the couch, holding me against his chest. He marches me across his lair to the pool.

It glows with bright blue water steams with a warmth so inviting that I’m tempted to jump straight in. Light pours in through a hole above, and a pleasant smell of the ocean comes with it.

“Strip.”

After a brief moment, I give in and take my clothes off, feeling embarrassed that he is seeing my naked body. Once I’m naked, he guides me into the pool. I sit in the water, avoiding his gaze.

When his hands first touch me, I flinch but don’t move away. He begins taking handfuls of water and wetting the parts of me that are still dry. The water is surprisingly warm, and I relax a bit as he works.

Oarus gets up, leaving me alone for a moment and returning with a washcloth. He wets it before bringing it to my back, where he begins gently scrubbing. The sensation actually feels quite nice, and I feel myself relaxing even more.

It’s obvious that he does not want to hurt me. It’s a stark contrast compared to what I’m used to when it comes to males. I almost feel bad for running from him yesterday. Almost.

He scrubs with one hand, using his other to splash water onto my skin. I feel him pause before moving to work on my breasts. My face heats up, and I’m sure it’s bright red right now.

His fingers take on more of an exploratory nature as he washes my breasts. A finger grazes my nipple and I close my eyes, trying to ignore what it does to me. The truth is, I don’t really understand the way it makes me feel. I’ve never felt anything like this.

I shiver as he grazes my nipple again, before trailing his hand across my stomach. He then brings his hand up, caressing my neck. My eyes remain closed, partially because I can’t bear to look at him as he does this.

He touches my earlobes, my cheekbones, and my arms, before coming back to my breasts. He holds one of them in his hand, making a soft grunting noise that I don’t recognize.

I let him do all of this, but it’s not just because I have no choice. Part of me is curious, too. Part of me likes the way it feels when his fingers make contact with my skin.

He trails a finger up and down one of my legs, slowly inching closer to my inner thigh. I hold my breath as he gets closer to one of the only spots he has yet to touch.

The tension in the air is thick between us. I dare myself to open my eyes finally.

Our eyes meet, and he watches me as he continues moving closer and closer to my core. Testing. I’m frozen as he runs a finger along my seam. But he doesn’t take it further than that.

Now that our eyes are locked, I can’t make myself look away. He runs his fingers up and down my thigh again. I can feel goosebumps rising on my arms and legs. Something I’ve never felt before blooms within me.

I’ve never much liked sex or felt the desire for it. Never really understood the need. I’m starting to understand it now. I can barely breathe as his hands glide along my body, exploring. This must be what other people feel.

Eventually, our eye contact breaks and Oarus goes back to washing me. Although an occasional touch here and there still makes me shiver.

It’s confusing, the things I’m feeling. I’m still terrified of him and what he might expect of me in the future. What he might do with me. But that fear seems to be slowly edging more towards curiosity. Curiosity about what is going through his head. About why he wants to keep me here.

He doesn’t treat me like past masters, not really. But a small voice in the back of my head reminds me that maybe this is all just a way to get me to let my guard down, to lower the wall in my mind, before the real horrors start.

That same voice reminds me to keep that wall up. To stay wary.