Shipwreck

She gave Annabelle the remains of the cigarette, patted her shoulder, and stood up. Her head bent down towards Annabelle's head in a strange hesitant something that stopped short of being a kiss before she walked off down the beach. She gave Annabelle time and space to think.

Annabelle had been asleep when they struck. She had felt the jolt and heard Kat shouting at her, blearily swung her feet out of the cot and only came fully to with the shock of meeting water rather than the deck. Something had told her to pull on her plimsolls and grab her trousers; then Kat was bundling her out up the companion ladder and before she knew it she was in the water. Somewhere in the process she lost trousers and one shoe. She had even taken her watch off before going to sleep: her entire possessions amounted to one T-shirt, one pair of knickers and a single plimsoll. Everything else, what little there was of it, properly belonged to Kat.

"Come here, Bel."

Kat was sitting at the edge of the firelight, back leaning against a tree and knees drawn up, looking down the open beach towards the surf. She was, as always, coping; but not easily. Although they had accomplished some necessary tasks on this third day, it had been hard work and tempers were still frayed. Annabelle was painfully aware that she was not the ideal helper in moments of crisis: she had known it herself, which did not stop Kat from telling her. As if there wasn't enough to contend with, Kat was fiddling irritably with a length of twig between her fingers in a way that suggested she really wanted a cigarette there instead.

Kat's own wardrobe was somewhat more complete: underwear, T-shirt, pair of shorts and a waterproof jacket she'd grabbed on the way out. She had managed to retain both of her plimsolls. She was wearing them all, except for the jacket; and as always she wore the knife.

"What is it?"

"Take your knickers off and kneel down just there."

Snapping tone: no 'please'; no 'would you mind'.

"I'm sorry?"

"Pay attention, because I don't intend to repeat myself. If you take them off, you'll be able to put them back on again later; if I have to tear them off, I'll put whatever rag is left on the fire and you can keep it on show for ever. Your choice to make."

Annabelle slid down her knickers and knelt on the sand. Kat snapped her fingers and gestured impatiently. Annabelle handed them over.

"You said I could put them ..."

"I didn't say when. Earn them back."

"How?"

"I've had a hard bloody day and I'm tense and jumpy. So I'd like to sit here, and try to calm down, and watch a moderately attractive young woman diddling herself for my amusement ..."

"Diddle myself ... I couldn't"

"No, you probably don't even know how, do you? God, you two must have seen me a mile off."

"I don't understand."

"That is more than obvious. Very well, you are here because your tarty and dishonest friend lied to me. Firstly she assured me that you were both competent aboard a boat, which you frankly are not; and that she was competent to give me head, which she was not. Please tell me that I don't need to explain that bit to you?"

"I'm not ..."

"Just gets better, doesn't it? Cunnilingus, shrinking little flower; Jenny offered to put her face between my legs whenever required and wiggle her tongue until I heard heavenly choirs and saw rainbows. To be honest with you, her interview performance could have been improved on; and of course once we were underway there was a constant recitation of 'not here, Annabelle might realise'. She didn't feel that you would relish joining in, which rather appears to be the only honest thing she said to me from the first.

"Jenny put her face ..."

"Yes, dear; because I told her to. Just like you will when I tell you to. Which is not tonight, so stop snivelling about it. Go and fetch your shoe and bring it back to me."

"Please, Kat, stop being like this to me."

A long deep sigh as Kat rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Nothing in her voice but extreme tiredness.

"Just go and get the shoe, will you."

Annabelle walked the twenty yards to their pile of stores in a daze. She had played with herself, of course she had; you do when you're young and it's all new to explore. She had, naturally, been very shy and ashamed of it; and she'd never dreamed of describing it with that grotesque childish word. The idea of doing it for someone else to watch ... The idea that someone else would even want to watch! All very ugly and unsuitable at the best of times, this was so very far from the best of times. Not because of the sunburn and the hunger and the feeling that she was very slowly but nonetheless unmistakably dying; those were bad enough on their own. Even more than that, she really could not bear the knowledge that Kat's interest was drawing closer and closer to the part she had mentioned. She apparently wanted to watch Annabelle fiddling with it herself, which was risky enough. Every indication seemed to point towards Kat, at some point, wanting to put her own hands to it. What on earth was she going to do then? How to cope with the shame and awkwardness; the knowing look that it would prompt?

Kat had slapped her. Very hard that first time in the raft, the time she ended up with her body on Annabelle to control the thrashing about. She had shaken and snapped and made Annabelle feel helpless, and finally had calmly explained that she would only be violent if she needed to.

In the moments between Annabelle found Kat immensely admirable, even more than before she wanted to live up to her companion's unreasonable expectations. She wanted, as ridiculously unlikely as it seemed, for Kat to respect her back. Annabelle couldn't imagine how that could possibly go with Kat encountering the proof of the state she was in. There would be a knowing little laugh; there would be a mocking lecture about how she couldn't afford to waste fluids like that. There would be calling her a tart, just like Jenny. She didn't want Kat to despise her the way she obviously despised Jenny.

"Knees."

She knelt down and offered Kat the plimsoll.

"What took you so long?"

"Sorry."

"Say that again."

"I'm sorry, Kat."

What happened next shocked her. Kat held out her own left palm and slapped the shoe down across it as hard as she could. It made her wince; she did it a second time and gasped. There was something intense in her eyes, as if it was important to her that both she and Annabelle understand she had hurt herself first.

"Lie down and spread your arms out to the sides."

She pulled Annabelle into position across her lap, face down in the sand with her body in a pose of crucifixion. She pulled Annabelle's shirt up at the back and then laid her left hand firmly on the back of Annabelle's neck.

The first blow drove the air from Annabelle; it drove the parts she was trying desperately to ignore hard onto Kat's thigh. It hurt more than she remembered from twenty years before at school, and for the first time she realised her teacher hadn't really been trying back then. Not to mention that had been through clothing. The first one, and already she wanted to sob.

"Say it again."

"I'm sorry, Kat."

And again: fear, pain from the blow; voice above her calm but thicker than she was used to; I'm sorry, Kat, please don't ... And again ... And again ...

"Kneel."

She pulled herself upright, aware she was sobbing for real. Her backside was aching and throbbing. Even though Kat could not possibly see, she felt the need to cover it up. Her hands fidgeted behind her and pulled then T-shirt down over herself. Kat smiled, that same strange half smile from the day before when Annabelle had said whatever it was about 'pardon'.

"Good girl, Bel; that is so sweet of you ..."

She hadn't even considered the consequences; she was so desperate to hide her bottom that she had yanked the shirt down behind without any thought that it would fly up in front and totally expose her that way.

"... Do you masturbate, Bel?"

"No ... Yes ... I have done. Please, Kat ..."

"Good, that's good enough for now. Pull my shorts and undies down for me, Bel; gently now, show me some respect."

Annabelle did as she was told, easing each in turn down to Kat's ankles. Kat settled back against the tree and opened out her knees.

"Shirt off now. It's alright, you can have that back in a very short while, I promise; I'd just like your breasts and shoulders visible for a few minutes. Please, Bel, I don't want to hit again."

Annabelle did as she was told. To her surprise, Kat didn't show any immediate interest in her body, but simply took Annabelle's hand in her own and drew it between her legs. Kat's hand was on the back of hers, manipulating her fingers against Kat's hard clitoris; every now and then she would push them down and inside, and then back to continue. Her breathing deepened but did not get any shorter.

"It's not good enough, Bel ..."

"I'm trying. I'm ..."

"Try harder."

Kat's free hand reached out and pinched Annabelle's nipple. The pain made her gasp and recoil, but Kat's grip on her hand only tightened.

"Do not stop. Do not flinch; that spoils it for me."

Kat's arm went round her shoulder, nails digging into her upper arm. It made Annabelle groan, and when she groaned she felt Kat's hand working her own faster. Kat drew Annabelle down towards her mouth; she bit her shoulder and her earlobe; each bite made Annabelle whimper and each whimper made Kat rub harder. Suddenly the grips on her were crushingly tight and Kat's mouth at her ear was giving out an animalistic moan so loud and long that it made Annabelle flinch despite the warnings. Not that it mattered by then.

Kat dragged her hand down and forced it inside; two of Annabelle's fingers and a couple of Kat's crushed together in the fierce grip of what she presumed Kat herself would call her cunt. The arm around her neck slowly eased and the panting in her ear slowed until Kat could speak.

"What's your name, bitch?"

No need to think, no reluctance to speak. What could be wrong in stating the simple truth?

"Bel. My name's Bel."

"Do what I tell you to, Bel. Don't spoil it now."

"What do you want, Kat?"

The hand released hers, as soon as she withdrew her fingers she felt more of Kat's take their place. The other hand was in her hair, turning her face towards Kat's.

"In your mouth for me."

She didn't need to be hit or threatened. She didn't, really, even need to be told what to do. She put her fingers in her mouth and sucked Kat from them as Kat looked into her eyes, until the shuddering subsided and Kat's head went back against the tree trunk. For a moment she thought she saw a warmth in Kat's eyes, but then they closed and once again her voice sounded so very tired.

"Go away, Bel. Just go anywhere to get out of my sight for a few minutes."

She got up, pulled her shirt as far down as she could over her nakedness, and stumbled off towards the surf. As she left the light of the fire, for the very first time, she felt abused.

Bel stood in the surf and felt ashamed, one hand protectively in front and one behind. She did not hear Kat's approach over the waves.

"I suppose you think you deserve an explanation?"

"I don't really think anything."

"Here, have them back."

Kat held them out to her. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than the simple luxury of retrieving one of the only two possessions she could call her own and using them to cover the parts she no longer felt able to call private. Or she thought, until she heard her own voice say something utterly absurd.

"Please, Kat; would you touch me?"

"Where?"

"There. Between my legs."

"Modest."

"Please. Please, Kat; I don't want to say. Please!"

Kat's hand was inside her thigh for the briefest instant before it climbed and slid between: no tease or preparation necessary with Bel's wet open desperation. She moaned to the harsh fingers and pushed herself against the palm; without thinking about it her arms were around Kat's shoulders and her face buried into her neck.

"You don't really expect me to make you come?"

"No, I don't expect that. I just wanted you to know."

"Very well, Bel, I know now. I know that you're a cheap wet slut and you like being hurt. Is there anything else?"

"Nothing at all, Kat."

"Knees again."

She felt Kat's hand leave her; felt the damp sand under her knees as she took Kat's fingers into her mouth the same way she had taken her own. She felt ashamed of herself, and light-headed, and in some indefinable way content. Kat took her hand out of Bel's mouth and stroked her hair. Her voice was far softer than usual, almost as if she wanted to apologise but didn't know the words.

"There's nothing to tell, Bel. It's not because awful things were done to me and I can't bear the sight of men; or because I was indulged too much as a child and I like to get my own way; it's not even because I've never been very good at the suitably feminine things. It's just what I've always done to calm down when I'm tense, and believe me, young lady, at this precise time I am very tense indeed. I think we need to have a little honesty between us, Bel."

"I haven't lied to you about anything."

"Not so, you've lied to me about one thing; not quite in so many words but you know very well that you have been misleading me where your innocence and reluctance are concerned ..."

Bel tried to protest. That was not fair, she had never lied, she had been – still was – incredibly confused about everything. Kat stroked her face very gently to hush her.

"... Don't worry, I'm not angry. Honestly, Bel: you are not my type, and I'm not a loving person. If I was – if I was inclined to love anyone, and it wouldn't be you – it would cause me to make allowances for them. 'Oh dear, Bel's got something wrong but I love her so I won't make a fuss'. That's not appropriate here. Will you please put your knickers back on?"

"Thank you, Kat."

Kat woke to find Bel had rolled over in the night and nestled into her breasts; her mouth was open against Kat's skin, as if she had been unconsciously suckling. Bel woke to Kat calling her a disgusting word and pushing her away.

So it went on: Kat coped and worked and directed; Bel did the best she could to help and was told when her best wasn't good enough. Whenever the mood came upon her, Kat made Bel do things for her amusement.

Kat liked to have her feet kissed. At great length. She liked to sit in her usual spot with her back against the palm trunk and Bel before her on hands and knees. She liked Bel to start at her ankle and work slowly down the top of the foot, following each metatarsal with soft light kisses until she reached the toe, and then lap her tongue firmly back up to start again. She liked Bel to take each toe into her mouth and suck it slow and long while she idly made the vilest comments about things Bel had not done once during her marriage but Kat obviously thought she should have. If they ever got off this island and Bel found herself another man, Kat told her with exquisite cruelty, she would seem to have the makings of a pretty competent cock-sucker. She rocked her feet back on their heels so that Bel could press her own face to the ground and kiss Kat's soles. She rested them on Bel's cheek, without any real pressure at all, as if that made any difference. Bel felt the sandy skin gritty on her lips, she understood all too well that Kat was standing on her face.

Kat liked to watch. She explained, in that calm voice that made it sound even worse, that she had no interest whatsoever in the other business but on occasion it would amuse her to watch when Bel needed to pee. Bel would ask permission every time: sometimes she would be allowed to go into the trees, and sometimes she could just squat on the sand below the high-tide line and do it for Kat's amusement; and sometimes, perhaps, it would amuse Kat even more to simply tell her 'no'.

Kat liked Bel to take off her two items of clothing and lean forward with her hands against the trunk of another tree. She liked Bel to open her legs a little and arch her back until her body formed a particular flowing curve. She liked to take that spare plimsoll and beat Bel's backside as Bel repeated 'I'm sorry, Kat' between each stroke. She explained that it wasn't punishment, it was simply something she needed and the need was satisfied more sweetly if there was breathless tearful apology to accompany the hitting.

Every night they went to sleep beside each other. During the night they would roll together and the unconscious need for comfort and companionship would draw a sleeping arm around a shoulder, nuzzle a sleeping mouth into a breast. When Kat woke she would push Bel away with an insult. She would decide what, if anything, Bel was to wear that day; she herself would pull on the jacket with its constant cargo of two flares in the pockets, and they would set about the many tasks necessary for survival.

Kat had said Bel's feet were a priority, and so she set to work fashioning a pair of crude sandals from coconut husks. They might not be comfortable, at least to start with, but they would protect her soles from injury. Bel, for once, found that she was the one sitting against the tree with Kat kneeling before her and fussing over her feet as she cut and shaped for the best fit she could manage.

For once Bel had nothing to do but sit and watch, and reflect that the look of total concentration that Kat's face wore almost constantly was certainly unsettling, but it wasn't truly as cruel as it first appeared. There were times when ...

Annabelle's life, she supposed, had been a very sheltered one, but she was not stupid. Certainly she had not been so stupid that she didn't understand there were as many paths to happiness as there were people. There were women like that, of course there were, and she had never felt herself able to fear or despise them the way you were supposed to. To be honest about it, she had always felt just a little sorry for them. Except that now the idea of feeling sorry for someone as impressive as Kat struck her as ludicrous. No hatred then, but she had certainly never felt anything of the sort herself. Had she? There had been a moment amid the flow of 'all men are bastards; have some more wine; come to the West Indies with me' when she had thought Jenny was trying to seduce her. It was Jenny, after all, who was notorious for throwing herself at anyone. She hadn't welcomed the idea, but the suspicion had not made her say no to the trip, had it? And now?

It's impossible to wear the same pair of knickers constantly. Not in the tropics where you sweat constantly. Not with a companion who lectures you constantly on avoiding infections when she is not making you do things that cause you to react in spite of yourself. Bel leant back into the trunk and closed her eyes. She tried very hard not to think about Kat's spare but strong arms and skilful hands fussing around her feet. She fought to clear her mind of the thoroughly unsuitable image of being wrapped in those arms and suckled; and wished above all that she was wearing something down there at this moment to hide her thoughts behind.

"Kat?"

"What is it Bel?"

"How do you know all of this?"

For a moment Bel thought Kat would just ignore her, but then she set down the knife and looked away for a moment. Her voice was hesitant, not at all the impatient tone of command Bel was used to.

"I'd just gone up to Newnham, but it wasn't a time for ... Well, I drove ambulances for a year or two before I finished my education at a very different establishment indeed; and then there was the other thing, of course ..."