Chapter 11
My heart skips a beat as Stan comes storming into my room. The door slams against the wall, the sound echoing in the confined space. “W-what?” I stutter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tuts, shaking his head in disappointment. The dim light casts eerie shadows on his face, making his expression even more menacing. “And you're a filthy little liar now, too? That's going to get you punished if you're not careful.”
Fed up, I snap, “Look, Professor, I don't know what you think you saw—”
“I wouldn't bother finishing that sentence if I were you, love,” Stan interrupts, taking out a tablet and tossing it at my feet. The cold, hard device clatters against the metal floor. “I thought we had an agreement, you and I.”
I pick up the tablet, my hands trembling. I gasp when I see myself on the screen, climbing from the embed tank. Panic rises in me, tightening my chest. I hadn’t realized there were surveillance cameras aboard the ship. A sick feeling churns in my stomach at what else Stan might have seen.
But then the camera’s field of vision shifts, moving to pan across the rest of the deck. Thank God, I think, maybe there's a chance I can talk my way out of this.
Feigning a carefree confidence I don’t feel, I turn back to him and shrug. “Fine, Stan, you caught me doing my job. Did any of you notice he was hurt? Did you even care?”
Stan throws back his head and lets out a menacing laugh that sends chills down my spine. “Oh, the fishman was hurt, was he? And I just bet you just about creamed those tender little thighs of yours at the thought of kissing it all better, didn’t you?”
I feel the blood drain from my face, leaving me cold and clammy. I take a step back, bumping into the edge of my bed. “E-excuse me?”
Stan continues, stepping toward me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. The small room feels even more cramped, the air heavy with tension. He crowds me against the foot of my bed, his breath hot and sour against my face. “You’re a vapid little girl with silly little dreams. You know that, don’t you, sugar?” He practically coos at me before snarling, “It was cute at the beginning, but now you’re starting to get on my nerves.”
The dim overhead light flickers, casting a sickly glow over Stan’s face. The ship creaks and groans, a constant reminder of our isolation. I try to steady my breathing, the stifling air thick with the scent of salt and sweat.
Desperate frustration fills me, making it difficult to think clearly, but I search desperately for something, anything, to get Stan to see reason. “Look, I know I said I would stay away, but I couldn’t. But if you or any of your little band of puppets had bothered doing your jobs, I wouldn’t have needed to,” I say, my own temper flaring.
The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as his presence looms over me, but I force my eyes to meet his, the anger bubbling up inside me, “You can try to intimidate me all you want, but I didn’t come all the way out here to sit on the sidelines. I’m here to work.”
Stan’s eyes narrow, his lips curling into a sneer. “How many times do I need to spell it out for you, sugar? The only reason you’re on this ship is to keep my dick wet. You’re a couple of holes who happened to read a Biology 101 book, and it’s time you started acting like it.” He grabs me roughly, pulling me in for a kiss. His grip is ironclad, his fingers digging into my arms. His mouth crashes onto mine, hot and invasive.
I push him away, adrenaline surging, and slap him hard across the face. “Get off me, you pig!” I shout, the sound echoing in the confined space.
Stan blinks at me, stunned, before a dark, evil expression twists his face. “You fucking bitch.”
He yanks my towel off with one hand and shoves me onto my bed with the other. I yelp, the back of my head hitting the mattress as he falls on top of me, pinning me down and holding my hands above my head while he forcefully kisses me again.
His weight is crushing, and the kiss is long and hard, making it difficult to breathe. Just as black spots begin dancing at the corners of my vision, he pulls away, pressing aggressive nips and kisses down my neck and across the swell of my breasts.
“I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” he says between kisses, as I struggle to catch my breath. His voice is a low growl, filled with menace. “I’ve let you get away with murder, running wild on my ship, getting cozy with my crew while you continue to ice me out like the frigid little cunt you are.”
“I swear on everything you love, Stan, if you don’t get off me right now, I’m going to scream,” I shout, my voice trembling with anger and fear.
Stan only laughs, a cold, heartless sound, grinding his hard-on between my legs. He pauses to let out a tortured moan of pleasure. “Go ahead, sugar, as loud as you want. There’s a pecking order on this ship; I’m at the top of it, and you’re right where you belong—at the bottom.” He flicks one of my nipples with his tongue, sending a jolt of humiliation and rage through me.
Humiliated and fueled by a wild, soul-deep rage, I spit in his face, sending him momentarily reeling. “You’re not getting away with this, you rat bastard. I swear if it’s the last thing I do—”
Stan’s response is another brutal kiss, hard and punishing. I wrench my head to one side and scream, only for Stan to capture my lips again, humping his hips against mine. As I strain against him, struggling to fight him off, the room fills with mist. Fleetingly, I think it’s my own tears making my vision foggy until I catch the heady scent of petrichor and brine. The room grows colder, the air thick with humidity. Just then, the lights go out.
Stan lifts his head, looking around the pitch-dark room. “What in the fu—”
His curse is cut off with a gurgling yelp, and in an instant, his weight is gone from my body as he’s snatched by some unseen force into the darkness.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
