Chapter 12 - Landon
LANDON
That tiny whimper—fuck, it hits me like a shot of pure adrenaline straight to my cock. My entire body tightens with anticipation as I move toward the sound, silent as death.
“There you are,” I whisper, close enough now that I know she hears me.
She bolts like a startled deer, her footsteps frantic against the concrete floor. I follow at a measured pace, letting her think she might escape. A thrill pulses through me while I watch her desperate flight, knowing her mind is spiraling with terror.
My cock strains painfully against the zipper. I adjust myself, savoring the pressure. Even when Sadie’s confident and composed at her computer, I want her. But seeing her like this—frightened, vulnerable, running from me—it awakens a monstrous side of me.
I round the corner in time to see her disappearing down another corridor. The flash of her silhouette, the panicked glance she throws over her shoulder—it’s fucking beautiful. My breathing quickens, not from exertion but from desire.
“Run faster, little butterfly,” I call after her, loud enough to echo. “Your fear makes you so much more delicious.”
Every turn she takes draws her deeper toward my tech lab in this labyrinth—the perfect place to explore her. The knowledge makes me dizzy with power.
The cameras mounted in the corners show me her position even when walls separate us. I touch one as I pass, a silent acknowledgment of our connection.
I slow my pace deliberately. The longer she runs, the more her rational mind will crumble.
“You can’t escape me, Sadie,” I whisper, though she’s too far to hear. “You never could.”
My hand drops to my erection again, squeezing hard. Nothing—not the Hunt before, not any woman—has ever gotten me this hard, this desperate.
I herd her through the twisting corridors, each turn perfectly calculated to bring her exactly where I want her. The white noise generators embedded in the walls of this section create a blanket of silence that grows thicker as we approach my tech lab. No one will hear her screams here.
Sadie stumbles through the doorway, momentum carrying her forward until she realizes there’s nowhere left to run. The room is clinically white with banks of computers and monitors along the walls. A stainless steel table stands in the center.
She whirls around, her back hitting the edge of the table. The fear in her eyes is exquisite. Her chest heaves with panicked breaths, pulse visibly racing at her throat.
“Fuck,” I groan, unable to maintain my composure. The pressure in my pants becomes unbearable. “You have no idea how beautiful you are when you’re scared.”
Her lower lip trembles. A tear slips free as she blinks, racing down her cheek.
I step closer, blocking the only exit. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times, little butterfly.
Watching you through those cameras... but having you here, seeing that fear up close—” I squeeze myself through my pants, not bothering to hide my arousal.
“You’ve got my dick leaking in my pants just looking at you. ”
She presses herself harder against the table, as if trying to melt into it.
“I built this room specifically for you, and this moment,” I whisper, moving closer. “Soundproofed. White noise generators. No signals in or out.” I tap a monitor showing an empty corridor. “No one’s coming to save you.”
The trembling of her body intensifies, and I can almost taste her terror on my tongue.
I close the distance between us in two strides.
Before she can react, I grab her waist and lift her onto the metal table.
Her weight is nothing against my strength.
She fights, flailing wildly, but I’m prepared.
The restraints I’ve installed click satisfyingly around her wrists, then her ankles, pinning her spread-eagled on the cold surface.
“No! Let me go!” Her scream echoes through the room, bouncing off the white walls.
“Why would I do that when I’ve worked so hard to get you exactly where I want you?” I trace my finger down her throat, feeling her pulse hammering beneath her skin.
She thrashes against the restraints, metal clanking against metal. “Please, Landon. This isn’t—I don’t want this!”
“Don’t you?” I slide my hand between her thighs, pressing my palm against her wet cunt through the fabric of her panties. “Your body tells a different story.”
Her back arches at my touch. I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. “I’ve watched you touch yourself, remember? Watched you come while moaning my name.”
“That was different,” she gasps. “I didn’t know you were—”
“A monster?” I finish for her, circling my thumb over her clit. “Oh, but you did. You just didn’t want to accept it.”
I tear her panties off her, tossing them aside.
“Stop it! Please!” Her voice breaks on a sob, but her hips twitch upward as I rub gentle circles over her clit.
“Your mouth says no...” I murmur, “But your body is already responding. Feel how wet you’re getting for me?”
Tears streak down her temples into her hair. “This is wrong.”
“It’s right.” I stand between her spread legs and crouch down, my eyes locked on hers. “I’m going to make you come on my tongue while you beg me to stop. And the whole time, we’ll both know you don’t really want me to stop.”
Her eyes widen in panic as I lower my head. “Don’t—”
I spread her pussy lips with my thumbs, exposing her most intimate flesh to my hungry gaze. Her scent hits me, making my mouth water. I don’t hesitate, diving in like a man possessed, licking a long stripe from her entrance to her clit.
“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” I growl against her.
Sadie jerks against her restraints. “Stop—please stop—”
But her hips rise to meet my mouth, her body seeking what her mind rejects. I flatten my tongue against her clit, circling it slowly, memorizing her reactions.
“Your body knows what it needs,” I murmur, before sucking her clit between my lips.
She arches against the restraints, a strangled moan escaping her throat. I’ve watched her through cameras, studied her like code, but nothing compares to having her spread before me, tasting her surrender.
“I don’t—I can’t—” Her protests dissolve into whimpers as I slide two fingers inside her, curling them to find that spot that will make her crumble.
I feel powerful, godlike. Her resistance only makes my conquest sweeter. Each lick, each suck brings her closer to submission—not just of her body but her mind. That’s what I truly crave.
“Stop fighting it, little butterfly,” I command against her slick flesh. “Your cunt is practically weeping for me.”
She shakes her head frantically, tears streaming down her face, but her thighs tremble as I increase the pressure. I feel her walls tightening around my fingers. She’s close.
I look up the length of her body, watching an internal war play out across her beautiful face. Her eyes meet mine—terrified yet glazed with pleasure. This moment of connection, seeing the exact second she begins to fracture—it’s better than any drug.
“I see you, Sadie,” I whisper. “I see everything you try to hide.”
I press my face deeper between her thighs, groaning against her flesh. Fuck, she tastes incredible—sweet and tangy with an edge that’s uniquely her. Better than anything I had imagined during all those nights watching her on screens. This is real. This is mine.
“Jesus Christ,” I growl, licking her from entrance to clit. “You’re fucking soaked.”
And she is—her arousal coats my chin, my lips. Her body’s betrayal is absolute, her cunt weeping as I worship it with my tongue. The metal restraints rattle as she fights against her own pleasure, but her hips keep lifting toward my mouth, seeking more.
I know exactly why she’s responding this way. I’ve studied her file, read the police report. The memory is embedded in her psyche.
“Your body remembers,” I murmur against her inner thigh, biting down hard enough to make her gasp. “It craves what terrifies you.”
My fingers slide deeper, feeling her walls clench around them. “Please,” she whimpers, but her hips roll against my face.
I look up at her over the landscape of her body, watching tears streak into her hair. “I know what happened to you, Sadie. I know why you’re so wet even while you’re begging me to stop.”
Her eyes widen in shock, shame coloring her cheeks. The knowledge that I’ve accessed her most private trauma appears to horrify her more than the physical violation.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, my tongue tracing lazy circles around her clit. “Your body knows who it belongs to now. Let go and surrender to me.”
Her reaction is instantaneous. The moment I mention her surrender, her entire body shakes.
Her back arches off the table like she’s been electrocuted, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm rips through her.
Her thighs clamp around my head, her cunt pulsing violently against my tongue and fingers.
I don’t stop, drinking in her release as she comes apart.
“That’s it,” I growl against her sensitive flesh. “Let go for me.”
She sobs as she comes, her face twisted in a beautiful mixture of pleasure and shame. I’ve never seen anything so fucking perfect.
This is everything I’ve wanted since I first saw her.
When her orgasm subsides, I rise slowly, wiping her wetness from my chin with the back of my hand. Her eyes are unfocused, glazed with coerced pleasure and shock. Tears continue to streak down her temples.
An unexpected sensation twists in my chest at the sight of her distress. I didn’t anticipate this—this strange discomfort seeing her broken this way. I wanted her surrender, yes, but this...
I reach out, gently brushing tears from her cheek with my thumb. “Breathe, little butterfly.”
My voice comes out softer than intended. I clear my throat, trying to reclaim the monster I was moments ago, but the concern won’t fully disappear.
“You’re safe,” I tell her, surprising myself with the sincerity behind the words.
It’s absurd—I’m the one who put her in danger, who violated her privacy, who strapped her to this table to exploit her trauma. Yet some protective instinct rises within, something I have never been compelled to give to another human being.
I stroke her hair back from her forehead, an oddly tender gesture entirely foreign, to the point I begin second guessing my own motives. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, and mean it in ways I don’t fully understand.
An ache stirs in me as I look down, taking in her tear-streaked face.
This isn’t how I pictured it. I wanted her surrender, yes, but not like this—not broken and sobbing.
I never considered that my game would shatter her this way, leaving her broken, sobbing, and terrified of me.
My fingers move to the restraints at her wrists almost of their own accord.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Letting you up.” I release one wrist, then the other. “You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
I’ve never felt this protective urge before, this need to soothe rather than terrorize. As I bend to unfasten her ankles, a strange vulnerability washes over me.
It happens so fast I barely register the movement. One second, I’m leaning over her leg, the next, her foot connects with my stomach with surprising force. The air rushes from my lungs as I double over, momentarily stunned.
Sadie leaps from the table, her movements quick and desperate. She stumbles, backing toward the door.
I wheeze, straightening up. The compassion I felt seconds ago vanishes, replaced by cold rage. “Get back here!”
I lunge for her, fingers grazing her arm, but she’s faster than I anticipated. She spins away, eyes wild with fear and determination.
“Stay away from me!” she screams, looking frantically around the lab.
My tech lab’s medical trolley stands between us—loaded with equipment I’d planned to use on her. Before I can reach her, Sadie grabs it and shoves it hard in my direction. The metal cart crashes into my legs, sending tools and devices clattering across the floor. I stumble, momentarily off-balance.
It’s all the advantage she needs. Sadie bolts through the doorway into the corridor beyond, her footsteps echoing as she runs.
“Fuck,” I grunt, watching her disappear.
She’s running. Fighting back. Making this a challenge.
My cock throbs against my zipper as I straighten up, placing my mask back in place to hide the smile spreading across my face. I’d almost pitied her—a momentary weakness I won’t allow again.
“Fly, little butterfly,” I whisper, stepping over the scattered equipment. “Show me those wings.”
I don’t chase her immediately. Instead, I walk calmly to the security panel on the wall, tapping in a code that activates the corridor lockdown protocol. Metal gates descend at strategic points throughout the labyrinth, sectioning off her possible escape routes.
She’s trapped now, in a smaller maze of my design.
The cameras show her sprinting down the eastern corridor, panic evident in every line of her body.
This Hunt—this real Hunt—is infinitely more satisfying than my original plan. Her fight isn’t performative now. It’s authentic.
I touch the screen where her image runs, trailing my finger along her digital form. “That’s it, Sadie. Make me work for it.”
The more she resists, the sweeter her eventual surrender will be. Each act of defiance only heightens my anticipation of breaking her. Not with force—that’s too easy, too crude. I’ll break her with pleasure, with understanding, with the terrible intimacy of knowing what darkness lives inside her.
I check the camera feeds again, plotting her position against the maze’s layout. Then I move to an adjacent corridor, one that will intersect with her path in approximately forty-five seconds.
My footsteps are unhurried. Methodical. I’m not frantic or angry that she escaped. I’m calculating. Patient.
The thrill of the Hunt pulses through me with each heartbeat, my arousal building with every step. She thinks she’s fighting for freedom.
She doesn’t understand she’s only making the game more entertaining.