Chapter 6 Sadie
SADIE
The lines of code blur together on my screen as my mind drifts to the Hunt again. Three days left until I willingly walk into Purgatory and become prey for seventy-two hours. The thought sends an embarrassing shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear.
I force my focus back to the security protocol I’m reviewing when my screen flickers. For a second, I think it’s a glitch, but then the code disappears, replaced by a black background and crimson text.
I can see you biting your lip when you think about me.
My breath catches. I glance around the office, but everyone’s focused on their own screens. I hesitate, then type:
Who is this?
The reply comes instantly.
You already know. Deep down, you feel me watching.
Heat floods my cheeks. Could it be Landon? The thought of him observing me, tracking me, should terrify me. Instead, my pulse quickens.
I’ve been watching you touch yourself. Heard you moan my name.
Oh god. The memory of my bedroom, my hand between my legs, Landon’s name on my lips... My fingers hover over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
How did you gain access to a cybersecurity firm’s network?
A pause, then:
I know the right people. Just like I know exactly what you need.
I shouldn’t engage. I should report this, trace the intrusion. That’s literally my job. Instead, I type back.
What do I need?
To be hunted. Caught. Claimed. To surrender that brilliant mind.
My thighs press together under my desk. This is insane. I’m having an explicit conversation with someone who’s hacked my work computer in the middle of a cybersecurity office.
Are you afraid, Sadie? Or excited that in three days, there will be nowhere to hide?
I stare at the screen, heart pounding, knowing I should shut this down but unable to make myself do it.
Are you still there, Sadie?
I shouldn’t respond. Every instinct honed from years in cybersecurity screams to disconnect, report, and protect. But I can’t. A darkness pulls at me.
I’m here.
Good girl. When I catch you—and I will catch you first—I’m going to bind those clever hands that think they can outsmart me.
I’ll make you kneel, watching that brilliant mind struggle between fear and desire.
I’ll wrap my hand around your throat until your pulse flutters against my palm like a trapped bird.
My breath catches. I should be terrified, but heat pools between my legs.
I’m going to take everything from you, Sadie. Your thoughts. Your breath. And you’ll thank me for it. I’ll make you beg before I even touch you.
His words slice through my defenses with surgical precision. Normal people don’t react this way to threats. Normal people don’t feel arousal spike at being hunted.
But I’ve never been normal. Not since I was sixteen and trust was stolen from me, along with my sense of safety.
The therapists said it was common to seek control after having it taken.
They never understood that what I crave isn’t control, but a bone-deep sense of security.
The security to relinquish it and know that no matter what happens, I am safe.
Conventional intimacy leaves me feeling cold and disconnected. Gentle touches and sweet words might be happening to someone else. But this—this dark threat of domination—breaks through the walls I’ve built.
You’ll wear my marks for days. I’ll carve my ownership into your skin with pain and pleasure until you can’t tell the difference. Until you can’t remember who you were before I claimed you.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I should be running. Instead, I’m rooted to my chair, pulse racing, wondering if someone like him might be the key to finally feeling again.
Before I can think better of it, my fingers start typing:
And what if I don’t submit so easily?
The response is immediate.
Then I’ll enjoy breaking you. I’ll bend you over whatever surface is closest, rip those practical panties down your thighs, and spank that perfect ass until it’s red and hot to the touch. Then I’ll spread your pussy with my fingers and see just how wet your resistance makes you.
My breath hitches. I press my thighs together under my desk, feeling the unmistakable slickness between them. This is insane. I’m sitting in an office full of people, getting wet from filthy messages from a man who’s essentially stalking me.
I bet you’re soaking through your panties right now, aren’t you? Sitting there in your ergonomic chair, surrounded by colleagues who have no idea that your pussy is dripping at the thought of being taken. Used.
I bite my lip hard enough to hurt. My nipples have hardened against my bra, and I’m grateful for the cardigan hiding that fact from my coworkers.
When I find you in that maze, I’m going to make you suck my cock until you’re gasping for air.
I’ll fuck your pretty mouth until tears run down your face, and you’ll thank me for every inch.
Then I’ll bend you over and fuck you until you forget your own name—until the only word you remember is my name.
My hand trembles as I type back.
You seem confident you’ll be the one to catch me.
Oh, Sadie. I’ve already caught you. I know exactly how your body responds. How your breathing changes when you’re aroused. How your cunt gets so wet when you think about being dominated. How many times have you touched yourself thinking about my cock inside you?
I shouldn’t answer. This is beyond inappropriate; it’s dangerous.
Twice.
I admit, and hate myself a little for the honesty.
Good girl. Now touch yourself for me. Right now.
No way. I’m at work.
I type back quickly, my cheeks burning at the mere suggestion. The thought of touching myself here, surrounded by coworkers, makes my stomach twist with embarrassment.
A video file appears on my screen. My heart stops.
It’s me in my bedroom. My head thrown back, lips parted, hand working frantically between my legs. The date stamp is from three nights ago.
Delete that.
I type, panic rising in my throat.
I wonder what your colleagues would think if they saw their security expert like this? Moaning my name while you fuck yourself with your fingers?
My fingers freeze over the keyboard. This can’t be happening.
You wouldn’t.
Test me and find out. Now be a good girl and do as you’re told. Slip your hand under your skirt. Touch that pretty pussy for me.
I glance around frantically. Jeremy is coding two desks away. Melissa is on a call with her headphones on. My desk is partially obscured by a support column, but still—this is insane.
Please. Not here.
Now, Sadie. Or everyone sees how desperate you are when you’re alone.
My hands tremble as I adjust in my chair, angling my body toward the corner. Heart hammering against my ribs, I slide my right hand beneath my desk, under my skirt. I keep my left hand on the keyboard.
I’m doing it.
Prove it. Tell me how wet you are.
I slip my fingers beneath the elastic of my underwear, expecting to need time to get aroused. Instead, I find myself already slick and swollen. The shock of it makes me bite my lip to stifle a gasp.
I’m... really wet.
I admit, typing with one hand, mortified by my body’s betrayal.
Circle your clit. Slowly.
I comply, my fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves.
The sensation is so intense I have to stifle a whimper.
Every sound in the office—keyboards clicking, phones ringing, the hum of conversation—amplifies the illicit nature of my assigned task.
Each risk of discovery sends another spike of arousal through me.
I’ve never felt this sensitive, this responsive. The forbidden nature of the act, the fear of being caught, the humiliation of being forced to comply—it all combines into a potent cocktail that has me teetering on the edge embarrassingly quick.
I’ve got my cock in my hand right now. Stroking it while watching you squirm in your office chair, knowing you’re touching yourself for me.
My cheeks burn hotter as I try to maintain a neutral expression, fingers still moving beneath my desk. The thought of him watching me, touching himself while watching me, sends another pulse of shameful arousal through me.
How big are you?
I type with my free hand, immediately regretting the question. What am I doing?
Big enough that you’ll struggle to take it all. Thick enough that you’ll feel the stretch for days.
I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
But you won’t see it until the Hunt. Not until I catch you. And I will catch you. I’ll be the first to find you in that maze.
My fingers move faster against my clit as I imagine it. Being hunted. Caught. Claimed.
When I do catch you, I’m going to feast for hours on your sweet cunt.
Oh god. I shouldn’t be this turned on by his crude words. I’m a professional woman sitting in an office full of colleagues, not some character in a dirty novel.
But I won’t stop there. I’ll bend you over and fill that wet cunt next. Pound you until you’re screaming my name for everyone to hear. And when I’m done with that tight pussy, I’ll take that perfect ass too. I’ll claim every inch of you. Own every hole.
I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, my body trembling on the edge of orgasm from his words alone. I’ve never been spoken to like this. Never been wanted like this.
Will you let me do that to you? Will you surrender everything to me?
No.
I type back, trying to summon defiance even as my fingers continue their frantic circles against my clit.
I won’t surrender to you.
His response comes immediately, each word burning through me like an electric current.
Your consent is irrelevant. I don’t need your permission. When I find you in that maze, I’m going to take what I want regardless of what you say.
The taboo thrill of his words—being wanted so desperately that my protests mean nothing—sends me spiraling over the edge.
I bite down hard on my lip to stifle my cry as waves of pleasure crash through me, my body trembling in my office chair.
My thighs clamp around my hand as I ride out the intense orgasm, trying desperately to keep my face neutral trembling and not make a sound.
Interesting.
His message comes in as I try to catch my breath.
You just came, didn’t you? The idea of being fucked against your will made you climax. Such a good girl, coming for me like that.
My cheeks burn with shame at how easily he read me, how accurately he predicted my response.
Next time, you’ll come with my face buried between your thighs. But until then, no more touching yourself. For the next three days until the Hunt begins, your pussy belongs to me. If you make yourself come again, I’ll know, and I’ll send this video to everyone in your company directory.
I finally withdraw my hand from between my legs, trembling.
And don’t get any clever ideas about blocking my access to your home system. You’re good, but my people are better. Try to lock me out, and the video goes public. I’ll be watching, Sadie. Always watching.