Chapter 53
IVY
The next day
Iwake up wrong. Like something shifted while I slept and I missed it.
For a second, I don’t move. My body feels heavy. Restricted. My brain lags behind the realization until—my wrists.
Bound.
My stomach drops, so fast it almost hurts.
I jerk upright, and pressure tight across my chest pulls me back down. My ankles. My breath spikes. “What the—?”
The room is dim. Shadows stretch across the walls, wrong somehow, like the space changed while I wasn’t looking.
“Soren?”
Nothing.
Then a sound. Soft. Somewhere in the room.
My pulse jumps, sharp and immediate, adrenaline slicing through the last of the sleep fog. I pull against the restraints, testing. They don’t give. Not even a fraction. “This isn’t funny,” I snap, my voice tighter now. “If this is—if you’re—”
Movement. Closer.
I freeze.
There’s a shape at the edge of the bed. Still. Watching. I can’t see his face. Not clearly.
And for a second, my chest tightens. Because I don’t know for sure that it’s him.
“You said you trusted me.” His voice. Relief hits first. Fast. Hard. Then something colder follows.
“Soren,” I breathe. “What the fuck are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. Just moves. Slow. Deliberate.
Not hiding. Not rushing. Like this was inevitable.
“You told me what you wanted. And then you said you felt trapped. So I’m giving you exactly what you implied you wanted.
Me to literally trap you. To show you what being trapped really feels like. You’re here on my terms now.”
My stomach tightens. “That wasn’t—this isn’t—” My words stumble, because it is. Too close. Too exact. Every detail aligning. Deliberate. “I didn’t agree to this,” I say, sharper now, pulling against the restraints again. “You don’t just decide—”
His hand closes around my ankle. Firm. Grounding. Not painful. Unavoidable. “You don’t get to take it back once you say it out loud. Especially when you then accuse me of things I’m not doing. That’s not fair, Ivy. There are consequences to saying things like that to me.”
My breath stutters. Something twists low in my stomach. Fear. Yes. But not just that.
“You said you wanted to be taken,” he continues, quieter now. “You said you didn’t want to know.”
“I know it’s you,” I snap, even though I can’t fully see him. Even though something about this feels different.
He hums. “Do you?”
That lands—because for a second, I’m not sure.
The room feels wrong. He feels wrong. Any trace of his protective countenance replaced by something cold.
Something that doesn’t care if I feel good—something that wants fear.
The way he’s moving. The way he’s speaking.
Controlled. Measured. Watching me react.
My stomach flips. “Soren,” I say again, quieter now. “Stop.”
He doesn’t. His hand moves past my ankle, up my shin, my knee, settling at my inner thigh. Slow. Deliberate. Testing. Waiting.
My breathing turns uneven.
“You trust me.” Not a question.
My chest rises too fast.
“You said you did. Were you lying to me, Ivy?”
His grip tightens—controlled. Not enough to hurt. Enough to remind. “You’re safe.” Soft. Too soft. That makes it worse. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
I swallow. “I—” The word sticks. Because I did. Because I do. And that’s the problem.
Because nothing about this feels safe. And still, my body reacts.
Heat spreads low and fast, coiling tight without permission, without logic, without waiting for my brain to catch up.
My thighs press together. I hate that. I hate that it’s happening.
I hate that he can see it. A pause. Then— “Say it.”
My breath shakes. “Soren—”
“Say you trust me.” There’s pressure in his voice now.
I close my eyes for a second. This is insane. This is— “I trust you,” I whisper.
Silence. Then a slow exhale. Like he was waiting for that. “There you are.” Closer now. His voice shifts. Lower. Satisfied. “Good girl… little poison.”
I look down now, examine the bindings more fully. He’s strung me up—expertly—and there’s no way I’m getting out on my own. Even Houdini wouldn’t get out of this. I’m stuck here until he decides to let me go.
I’m fully naked, and I know I went to sleep in my pajamas. He undressed me without waking me. That lands cold. Did he drug me? Or am I suddenly a heavy sleeper?
I exhale, and the adjustment causes the ropes to tug on me. I take a breath and try to evaluate more clearly.
The way the ropes are digging into my skin is—hot. The bindings are symmetrical, trussing me in a way that makes my curves look intentional. Beautiful.
My nipples press against tight ropes, my breasts spilling over the bindings.
The only way I can move is small, controlled—straining against ropes that scrape my skin. Creating a slickness between my thighs I can’t ignore.
His mouth curves in approval. “You like this, don’t you? This is what you wanted.” His hand continues its path up my thigh, and I don’t pull away as he sinks a finger into me. He leans forward, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re soaking, Ivy. Ready for me?”
I nod, anticipation spiderwebbing through my body.
He yanks down his pants, his cock springing free.
He kneels over me, putting it to my mouth and nudging my lips apart. Obediently, I lick the tip and begin to suck. He fists my hair, yanking until my scalp burns. “Suck it, Ivy. Show me how much you want this.”
I take him into my mouth and he pushes deep inside until he hits the back of my throat. My lungs scream for oxygen, and tears sting the corners of my eyes.
He pulls out then, and I gasp, sucking in air. But just as quickly he thrusts back inside me and I gulp, saliva streaming out the corners of my mouth, my eyes watering even more.
He shows no mercy, yanking on my hair harder, sinking deeper than I thought possible.
I force my throat to relax, waiting until he lets me breathe again.
Then he pulls back.
I gasp, the tears flowing heavier now. “Soren, I can’t—”
“Don’t test me, Ivy. This is what feeling trapped feels like. And you said you wanted this.”
He fucks my mouth now—not even trying to take it slow—and I relax my throat, taking him deeply and sucking as hard as I can, my lips wrapped around his shaft.
I look up at him, tears welling in my eyes. Helpless. But not entirely resisting it. Not entirely hating it.
“Good girl, taking my cock like this,” he growls. “Letting me fuck your pretty mouth.” His body tenses, and he pulls out of my mouth. “Jesus fuck, poison.”
I gasp as I realize what’s about to happen.
Thick ropes of cum splash over my face and my chest, running down my body.
He smiles, smearing it over my skin. “That’s my good girl, letting me mark you with my cum,” he says. He strokes my jaw with his thumb. “Now it’s your turn.”
He crawls back down the bed, his weight pressing over me, until he gets to my stomach. He traces kisses downward until he reaches my core.
He tilts my legs up, my ankles tightly bound, and yanks my thighs apart forcefully. I cry out as they strain against the tight ropes, but he doesn’t lessen his grip.
Instead, he forces my thighs further apart, revealing all of me to him.
His breath fans across my core. “What a beautiful pussy. I can’t get enough,” he says.
Then he dives his face between my legs and laps at me. He devours me, his tongue working me.
The coil tightens and my hips try to buck against his tongue but he holds me steady, controlling me as he continues to lick and suck.
Just as the pressure peaks and I feel myself about to let go, he pulls away.
“Please,” I whisper. “Soren.”
“You’re trapped. You don’t decide what happens.” His eyes are sparkling with something that isn’t amusement. They’re icy. I shiver despite the heat that radiates throughout my body.
“Soren, that’s not fair.”
“Neither is accusing me of things I didn’t do.” His voice bears no humor.
Then I notice his cock is rock hard again. He climbs on top of me and I gasp as he plows into me while holding my thighs open wide. I’ve never felt stretched this far. So exposed.
He pulls all the way out and then slams in again. Hard. My hips buck this time and he digs his fingers in harder. He picks up pace, driving into me with a force I’m not used to.
I see stars in the corners of my eyes. “God, Soren!”
“Careful. You’re getting dangerously close to worship,” he replies, mouth curving. “But you’re right. I decide.” The look in his eyes is feral, his gaze locked on mine as he plows into me even harder now.
The coil within me tightens more than ever and it snaps. I let out a scream. “Fucking hell, Soren!” I moan as the orgasm shocks my entire body, my pussy pulsing crazily around his cock.
It’s enough to send him over the edge again, and I feel the pulse of his cock as it releases inside me.
After the pulses stop, he pulls out. He puts his pants on, glances at me, and then steps away. Leaving me there. Bound. Trapped.
“Soren,” I call out, confused. But he doesn’t reply. Just leaves me there, closing the door gently behind him.
The dark closes in around me. Everything goes quiet.
My body feels loose. Heavy in a different way. Calmer. That’s what doesn’t make sense.
I stare at the ceiling, trying to catch up to myself. Trying to find the moment where I should have stopped it. Pulled away. Fought harder. It’s there. I know it is. But it feels distant. Blunted. Like it matters less than it should.
Because underneath it, there’s something else. Something worse—I feel better. My stomach tightens. That shouldn’t be the memory imprinting from this. And yet it is.
I shift slightly, my gaze drifting toward the far wall. Something catches my attention. A reflection. Small. Subtle. Wrong.
My eyes narrow slightly. There’s something on the shelf. A device. Or maybe it’s always been there. Maybe I just never noticed. A vague memory of seeing it before tickles the back of my mind.
Not sharp enough to act on, but still present. Like something might have seen—and might still be watching.
I close my eyes.
And try not to think about why that feels normal.
A while later—which could have been minutes, could have been an hour—he drifts back in, untying me. His touch is expert but gentle. “Are you okay, Ivy? I didn’t tie these too tight, did I? Is that what you wanted?”
And the truth is, I don’t know anymore.
He guides me to the bathroom and into a bubble bath that’s waiting for me. I step in gingerly, and he helps me to lower myself into the deep tub.
The hot water soothes where the ropes rubbed against my skin, as well as the throbbing ache in my pussy.
He soaps me up, cleansing me.
Once I’m totally clean, he takes my hand and helps me up and out of the tub, and then covers me in a fluffy towel, drying me off.
He rubs my body with a rich lotion scented with something familiar—hibiscus perhaps.
Then he throws me over his shoulder and carries me to the bedroom, where he carefully lowers me down on my side of the bed.
“You’re perfect for me, you know that, misfit? I can’t get enough.”
Misfit.
It’s like he has an entire web of names for me.
A voice echoes in my head.
Wanted. I belong.
As my eyes fight to stay open, I stretch and smile.
Warm and almost impossibly cozy now.
Everything from before fades out.