Chapter 13
“Seven hours,” my captor says.
I shiver. Has it really been that long?
A click echoes, and I furrow my brow, not entirely sure what’s going on. The weight on my neck lifts, but I don’t move to stand up. My back aches so badly that I’m not sure I could even manage to do it without help.
“And you didn’t complain once about aches and pains,” my captor purrs into my ear. “That means you get a reward.”
Oh hell. If the reward is to straighten up, then I’m all for it.
Or better yet, lie flat on my back on the cold concrete floor.
After that paddling and whipping, I imagine it’ll feel glorious, amazing, maybe even heavenly.
A hand on my breast pushes me up, and the pain in the small of my back increases.
I cry and wince in pain until I’m fully upright.
My captor is taller than me, though that’s not hard to accomplish.
But now that I have a decent view of them—tall, lanky, but that’s about all I can see.
Everything, head to toe, is covered in leather just like it was on the staircase in the house when they took me.
I bite into the gag, wishing they’d take that thing out, but instinctively, I know they won’t. That’d be too much of a reward.
Without a second to wait, my captor takes my wrists and whips a rope around each one before pulling it tight into a knot.
I want to ask what’s going on, but my voice fails me, and the gag still makes it impossible for words to even form on my lips.
Staring down at my hands, their hands, and the rope around my wrists, I just wait to see what’s next.
With a shove to my shoulder, I’m pushed backward a step.
My feet stumble, and I barely manage to catch myself.
In fact, I’m fairly certain that without my captor holding so tightly to the ropes around my wrists, I wouldn’t have caught myself and would have fallen straight onto my ass. Which confuses me.
Isn’t the point to be brutal?
Another step backward, then another, and before I know it, my back is pressed against a freezing cold and rough wall.
Turning my head slightly, I stare at the wall to find it's cinderblock, just like the one I’d been staring at before, and the edges of the concrete rip against my back, right where the lashes from the whip landed.
I moan from the pain, wincing and trying to ease it up.
Fuck, it hurts so bad. But my captor just shoves me back into the wall anyway.
They lift my hands over my head, moving in closer, pressing their body into mine.
I stand still, even though I’m tempted to drop my weight and grind down on their thigh.
Oh, what would that feel like? To have my pussy pressed so firmly against the leather of their pants?
Cold and then hot? Absolutely dry and then slick?
Would I even be able to get enough friction to feel it?
From here, all I can smell is my captor.
The deep rustic scent fills my nostrils and invades my brain.
It’s leather, yes, but it’s also something else with a hint of spice that tingles my nostrils.
I’m not sure I’ll ever forget it. With my wrists tied above my head, my captor slides their hands down over my body, onto my breasts.
They grip my breasts hard, tightening their fists before pulling sharply at my nipples.
I cry out loudly, rocking my body forward to try and ease the suddenness of the pain.
But the rope at my wrists prevents me from going any farther.
Then their hands are against my breasts, fully cupping them again.
My captor bends down and adjusts my legs, tying them tighter against the bar between them as if that’ll keep them in place, but they’re not tied down in any other way to the floor or the wall.
And then, they reach up. I wince as if they’re going to hit me, but they don’t.
Instead, leather-clad fingers rustle at the buckle on the gag, moving it out of my mouth and away from my lips.
Saliva drips from it as they drop it onto the floor.
Then they shove fingers in my pussy, sliding them around.
I gasp at the intrusion but can’t help pushing my hips down into the rough touch.
That chuckle is back. It might be my favorite sound they make.
My heart races as the chuckle grows louder. The vibrator is pulled from me and vanishes, and without a moment’s hesitation, those fingers that were just inside me are shoved into my mouth. I suck at them—greedily, hungrily. Fuck, I want more of this. So much more.
“You are a good little slut, sometimes.”
“I want to hear you call me that every day,” I answer.
The laugh is back just before a slap collides with my cheek. “Shut up.”
I swallow back my comment. I was just being honest, but perhaps that wasn’t what they were looking for.
Holding my breath, I stare at them—at least what I can see of them.
Dark eyes with pale skin are really all I can see in the eyeholes of the leather mask they wear.
No other sense of what this person looks like, and I suppose it doesn’t really matter, does it?
They’re here to do absolutely everything that I asked them to do. They’re here to make every fantasy that I have come true in this one night.
Except I think this is only spurring more fantasies, more dreams, more desires. I stare into those dark brown eyes, eyes that I’m now obsessed with. I hold my breath, lift my chin, and give them a hard stare back.
I’m daring them.
To try something, to do something that I haven’t thought about. To take me again and again until I pass out one more time. To force me to learn the truth about the situation.
I’m not in control.
I have no power.
And that’s exactly what I wanted.
From the first moment I was taken, they’ve given me everything by taking it all.