Sweet Captives

An excerpt from Sweet Captives

Both girls were more compliant now, going about nude for the most part, coming to him at night without complaint. Lida was still more defiant, often tossing her blonde hair and planting a foot in the sand as tho she would not obey—tho she did. But little Po was docile, standing close to him when she was anxious in the jungle or the darkness of night, even curling up with him uncalled, and stroking his hairy chest.

Slowly, they each learned a few words of the other's language, but they could never scheme against him. These sweet, darling girls, barely educated, fit only for debutante cotillions on the Mediterranean coast... they could never scheme against him. They couldn't survive this wild semi-island without him, and they couldn't find their way thru the jungle and over the rocky ridge to freedom.

They were his for as long as he wanted to keep them, provide for them, be served by them, fuck them. And then, when his taste for fish and bananas and berries was overcome with a craving for succulent flesh and Lida defied him one time too many... he would cook her.

He would have to keep it a secret from Po, he knew. She would never tolerate him touching her if she knew that his hands had murdered Lida, stripped her bones, and boiled her or roasted her. But if he could convince her that Lida was killed accidentally in the jungle while helping him hunt a wild pig, pieces of which he'd brought back.... Yes, she would believe him, help him even. And tears of grief would stream down her cheeks while she gnawed at the flesh of the "long pig."