Chapter 6

It"s the fifth day of this routine. We just had our breakfast. Seven is in the bathroom running a bath in the large jacuzzi tub. When he steps out into the cell, the bandages are gone. There will be scars, but he"s healed and no longer in any pain. And thankfully, they didn"t get infected.

"Come take a bath," he says. I think I hear an unspoken with me in there.

I"ve grown to not only trust Seven but to feel comfortable with him. I no longer try to hide my body from his hungry gaze. I"m not sure why our captor hasn"t escalated things, why he hasn"t touched me again, or why he hasn"t made Seven fuck me for his amusement again. And while I"m grateful, there are the dreams that say there's an animal part of me that wants more to happen—that is ready for more to happen, even though the civilized part of me rebels.

It's only in the absence of the sexual demands of our captor that I learn to crave it. To want it. Maybe it"s partly because of the way Seven has unknowingly stoked this fire within me each night as he touches me, and I open and surrender to his questing hands. I don"t know why Seven does it. I think it"s some sort of strange comfort.

Or maybe he wants me too much. Maybe fucking me that first time has stoked a fire in him that now won"t go out, either. Maybe he reasons that giving me pleasure is less evil than taking it from me. After all, what does he get out of this arrangement?

I get up and follow Seven into the bathroom. He strips off his jeans and gets into the tub. He crooks a finger at me and points to the water. The way he looks at me now is entirely carnal. He doesn"t want to just take a bath. And neither do I.

I climb into the tub with him, leaning back against his chest. His erection presses against my lower back.

"Seven?"

His hand clamps over my mouth.

"Shhh. Listening devices, remember?"

I nod, and he pulls his hand away.

"Master?" I think if I quickly correct my error, our captor might not punish me for the mistake.

I feel Seven"s cock go harder beneath me. He may be upset by my degradation on a purely moral level. But he likes it when I use that word. He likes that word directed at him. It turns him on. It doesn"t mean he wants it exactly—especially if he thinks I don"t want it—but it does excite him, which makes me feel just a little bit better about it. Because it excites me, too.

"Why do you think he"s doing this?" I ask. We both know I don"t mean why is he holding us captive. He"s a psycho doesn"t really need further explanation. No, the question is why is he just feeding us and leaving us alone, not taunting us, not messing with us. Is he bored? I remember he said smart people don"t get bored, and I know he thinks of himself as smart.

"I"m not sure. But I don"t like it. I don"t think we can trust this peace and safety."

I tense in Seven"s arms, but I think the same.

We don"t say anything more. There's been a silence between us for most of our time together in the cell, but it"s a comfortable silence. It"s a silence that feels much safer than talking.

He takes a raspberry shower gel and squeezes some into his hands and starts to wash me. I sigh in contented pleasure leaning into his touch as he massages the gel into my skin. I shouldn"t feel this good being held captive. Seven is slow and thorough. His hands linger longer over my breasts, my ass, and between my legs. His fingers slip inside me, and I buck against him.

"Wait..." I say, "what about you?"

I wanted to return the favor and wash him, though maybe not with raspberry. I think I saw some peppermint in the cabinet. Even though I find myself too shy to initiate anything, to touch him without him guiding me to, I really want to touch him. I remember that first day in the shower. I want to lick that "V" again.

"I showered while you were still sleeping. We don"t need to bathe me. Turn around and straddle me."

We"ve gone days with him only giving, never taking. His restraint has been admirable. Each day he hasn"t asked anything of me, I"ve grown to trust him a little more. But we both have needs, and we"re here together. It seems foolish not to take our pleasures where we can get them. Especially if we"ll probably die here.

I know our captor says he won"t get bored and that killing is unimaginative, but what does he plan to do with us when he"s finished? Because someday he will be finished.

I start to turn around to do what Seven has asked, but his hand on my hip stills me.

"Wait, are you on birth control?"

He could have asked the question when we fucked a few days ago, but we were hungry and not exactly in the right frame of mind for that thought process. And it didn"t matter anyway, if we wanted to eat. He knows I can"t be on the pill. Is he hoping I had the shot?

"No, but I don"t need it. I can"t have children."

"How do you know?"

"Trust me. I know. I had to see a lot of doctors when I was a teenager. They discovered an abnormality in my uterus. It wasn"t directly related to the problem I was having but they stumbled on it. I"ve been this way since birth. The short version is I can"t have kids."

"There"s no treatment or surgery?"

"There really isn"t anything they can do in my case. Some women with milder abnormalities have lots of miscarriages but have at least a small chance of maintaining a pregnancy, but mine is too malformed. It just can"t happen. I"m not built right."

At first I don"t realize I"ve started crying. Seven strokes my back.

"Shhh. I"m sorry. I didn"t mean to upset you. I just didn"t want to take more risks than we had to."

"It"s okay."

Is this why he hasn"t taken? Even though we're being fed on a regular schedule, I'm still bait. I"m still naked, locked in an enclosed space with a man strong enough to take what he wants. And he would never get caught by any outside authorities because we both know we will never be free.

If he wasn"t afraid I"d get pregnant—with whatever added horror that might entail—would he still have had this saintly self-control?

He"s stroking my hair. "Do you want me?" he asks.

He never asked if I wanted him to stroke me to orgasm each night in the dark. My legs falling open when he reached my thighs was enough for him. But this is obviously different.

"Yes, Master."

A sharp intake of breath is his only reply. He does like it when I call him that. He doesn"t want to like it, but he likes it.

"You know you don"t have to call me that when we"re alone."

"I have to call you something, and he won"t allow names. It doesn"t bother me."

"Climb on top of me and ride me," he says, choosing not to address the fact that calling him master doesn"t bother me.

It"s such a weird thing for me to have said, but it doesn"t bother me. In the time we"ve been captive together I"ve started to feel this strange submissive urge toward him. I like the idea of him having this power. It makes me feel safer even though I know I"m not.

I turn and straddle him, sliding down over his huge cock. I don"t know how many times we"ll do this, but I"m sure I'll never get used to his size.

"You are so fucking tight. How are you so fucking tight?"

I shrug. "No children?"

"Good point."

I close my eyes and slowly start to move. I brace my hands against his chest. His hands come up and close over mine.

"Open your eyes. Look at me," he says.

I open my eyes and hold his hazel gaze. This can"t really be called fucking. It"s making love. I"m not sure how I feel about that, but it"s what it is. It"s slow and sweet, but the angles are all wrong. It"s too hard to do this in this tub. Seven realizes the same thing.

"Let"s move to the shower," he says.

"Okay." I get up on shaking legs, and he helps me out of the tub. He pulls the plug and lets that water drain as he moves us into the huge shower. He doesn"t turn the water on. He just pulls me into the enclosed glass space with him. Without a word, he bends me forward until my hands are resting flat on the ground.

I gasp when he enters me from behind. I"ve never done this in this position. The penetration is so deep that I feel this excited flip in my stomach with every thrust. I"ve secretly wanted his cock inside me again for so long that I don"t need him to tease me or work me up. I"m already wet and ready for him.

The wait, the tightness, the angle, it"s all too much for him, too. He drives into me with such ferocity it steals my breath. No sweet words of endearment are exchanged between us. We are no longer making love. We are fucking. Or he is fucking me. There is something animal and wild in this moment. His ability to resist this has frayed at the edges. He has frayed at the edges.

He lets out a harsh guttural sound when he comes, then he pulls out of me. I think I might cry. I know he didn"t mean it this way, but I feel like he just used me for his own pleasure without anything for me—like he just masturbated inside my body. A part of me is turned on, but another part is pissed being left like this, so desperate and needing.

I know I"m technically way ahead on the orgasm count, but still.

He steps out of the shower, and I just stand there for several minutes, numb. How is it that what happened in the dungeon with that sick psychopath feels like less of a violation somehow than this? I just had a bath, but I feel like I need another one.

I"m about to turn on the water and bathe again when he says, "Come out here."

I step out of the shower to find he"s laid several large thick bath towels down on the tile floor. He motions for me and I join him.

"Lie down."

I wonder if these short sharp orders are a result of hearing the word Master on my lips. It"s as though this word flips a switch inside him, and suddenly he wants to possess me.

I lie down on my back. He settles between my legs and languidly caresses and licks me until I come, my legs shaking from the force of my pleasure. I now feel so stupid for doubting him, for thinking he would leave me unfulfilled and just use me. I let out a long contented sigh as he strokes my belly.

He gets up and comes back a few minutes later with a warm wet wash cloth which he uses to clean me from our mingling fluids slipping down my thighs. I am falling for this man, and I no longer care if it"s real.

* * *

I feel strangely self-conscious when we go back into the cell. Seven has jeans on again. He sits on his side of the cell beside the mattress, and I sit on mine. This draws an odd look from him.

"Don"t you want to come lie down with me?" he asks. He looks almost hurt by this, as though I"m rejecting him.

I don"t know why I went to my old spot. Before I can answer, sounds are coming out of the speaker. It"s the sounds of him fucking me in the shower—that wild animal sound he made when he came. There's silence for a moment, and then it"s my recorded moans of pleasure filling the cell.

Then the voice speaks for the first time outside of meals in five days. "It"s about time," he says. "I thought you two would never fuck on your own. It was like watching pandas in captivity."

I swallow hard, my gaze going to Seven"s.

"Congratulations, pets," our captor says. "You"ve unlocked the next level. I know he"s been touching you at night. The cameras have a night vision setting, but you can"t level up unless you fuck on your own. I"m so excited."

I don"t know why my subconscious mind has been romanticizing and sending me erotic dream imagery of our captor, but suddenly all the fear of him is back in a single moment.

There's a light tinkling metallic sound on the floor under the food slot, and I see that a key has been dropped onto the ground.

"Pretty Toy," our captor says, "chain him up."

I look at Seven, my eyes wide. Somehow I"d thought he would have to feed us and give Seven the drugs before he could come in here. Somehow I"d been living in the false security that I was safe at all other times inside this cell. He can"t come in here otherwise without being overpowered unless he brings a weapon, and I know Seven would rush him, even if he pointed a gun.

Thisoption hadn"t occurred to me.

There's a loud sigh over the speaker as I remain frozen, staring at that key.

"No more food comes through the slot until you chain him up. You already know I can wait you out, so I suggest the two of you cooperate. There"s no point starving yourself and suffering more. Don"t you agree?"

The look in Seven"s eyes is stark, not because he"s about to allow himself to be chained up, but because it leaves me vulnerable and because it was his need to fuck me without orders to do so that unlocked the next level.

I struggle to stand and cross the floor to the food slot. I stare at the shiny silver key for several minutes as though trying to teleport it out of this house so we"ll be safe. But the key stubbornly refuses to disappear under the urgency of my thoughts.

Finally, I pick it up and cross the room to Seven.

"I"m sorry," he whispers.

"You couldn"t have known."

"I should have."

My hands are shaking too hard to unlock the shackles on the wall, so Seven takes the key from me and unlocks them. He gives it back before locking the first shackle on himself. He holds out his other wrist. I"m crying now.

I shake my head. "I can"t." I turn up toward the camera. "Are you going to hurt him?"

"Of course not," the voice says. "He didn"t break any rules."

"A-are you going to hurt me?"

"Address me properly," he says. I know he heard everything in the bathroom. Of course he must be angry that I would so easily and without prompting call Seven Master, but refuse the title to him. It wasn"t intentional. I would never intentionally piss this guy off. I"m just too scared to think.

"I"m sorry, Master."

But he doesn"t answer my question. He only says, "Obey, Pretty Toy."

I look to Seven as if he can offer me some guidance. There are no choices here. If I don"t chain him up, we"ll just go for days without food until I finally give in, and then I"ll be half starved on top of whatever is about to happen here. But if I do lock the other chain around Seven"s wrist... that door is going to open.

I can"t cope with the idea of that door opening and that swirling mass of darkness coming into this cell with us.

I pace back and forth, my hands shaking so violently I drop the key.

"You"re only making this harder on yourself," our captor says. His voice is so calm and reasonable I want to scream.

"Look at me," Seven says, careful not to use my name, careful not to break the rules.

I look into his eyes. I"m struggling to calm my crying, struggling to breathe.

"It"s okay," Seven says.

It"s not okay, and we both know it. But I have no real choice. I take a deep shuddering breath and lock the second shackle around his wrist. That click is the loudest sound I"ve ever heard.

The chains are long enough that he"s still able to pull me into his arms. He holds me, cradling my head against his chest like he did that first day in the shower. His other hand strokes my back.

"Shhhh," he soothes. But I can"t stop crying.

I flinch when I hear the metal door slide open and the sound of our captor walking into the room. I squeeze my eyes shut and press harder against Seven"s chest.

"Come to me, Pretty Toy."

I hold on to Seven harder. I can"t go to that monster.

"Don"t hurt her," Seven warns.

"Or what? You"ll do something heroic? Kate, what did I say about names in here? I distinctly heard you say his name in the bathroom. If you"re smart, you will step out of his arms and beg me for mercy."

Seven"s grip on me tightens like he"s just made up his mind to never let me go, to never let our captor have me. I wish it were that simple, but I know it"s not.

Our captor comes closer, standing on the side my face is turned toward.

"Open your eyes, sweet whore."

I bite back my sobs and open my eyes to see that cold gray gaze sliding into me. Something dark inside me awakens, and I feel the throbbing start between my legs. I try to make it stop, but it won"t, even as I"m so fucking scared of him.

My gaze drops to the cane in his hand.

"Master, please, please..."

But he"s not concerned with me right now. He"s turned his attention to Seven. He props the cane against the wall and pulls a syringe out of his pocket. He removes the protective cap from the needle and pushes the air out, tapping the side of the needle.

"You can release her to me, or I can inject you with a sedative and take her. She"ll be punished worse if I have to do that."

I feel Seven"s arms slacken around me in defeat.

"Good. Now, Kate, come, throw yourself on my mercy."

I know what he wants from me. There is this almost psychic link that formed between us that day in the dungeon. I"ve had to start trying to think like him to survive this total mind fuck he"s got me under. I pull myself from the warm, safe circle of Seven"s arms, turn away from him, and kneel in front of our captor. I think of him as our captor, but the thought that really keeps coming to the front of my mind is my master.

I"ve been trying so hard for days to not think that phrase, to not let it burrow inside my soul and set up camp there. But it"s useless. This man owns me, and both Seven and I know it. He may also own Seven in a sense, but he has this twisted desire to bring my would-be protector over to his side of the good and evil divide, leaving me alone, helpless, and at the mercy of both of them.

I want to convince myself that this isn"t possible, but look at how he"s already conditioned me. And I know how much Seven wants me and how the word Master affects him. It"s only a matter of time before my one safe haven is gone.

I let the tears fall because there's no point in being brave. I don"t think bravery wins me points with this man. He wants to watch me break and crumble at his feet. And so I do. I give him what he wants. I let him see this absolute vulnerability and how broken I am. I think that if I do this, somehow I can hold onto a small piece of myself and hide it and keep it safe within me.

"Master, please. I beg you. Forgive me. I"m sorry I disobeyed. Please... spare me."

He chuckles. "Oh, yes, my sweet whore. You know exactly the way I like it."

He derives a real pleasure from these words I speak, these tears I cry, my total despair kneeling at his feet. He seems to get the kind of satisfaction from this that most men get from a blow job.

I flinch when he starts to stroke my hair.

He reaches down, takes my hands in his, and pulls me to stand. Then he spins me around so that my back is pressed against his front, so that I"m exposed, facing Seven. He holds my throat in a possessive grip with one hand as the other moves slowly over my body—as though he"s displaying a pretty object he intends to sell for the right price.

"Look at her," he says to Seven. "She's so fucking perfect. Already she"s so perfect. You will soon come to appreciate all the work I"m doing. Watch her." Then he whispers in my ear. "Look at him. Do you see the lust? He"s not your hero. Remember that, Pretty Toy. Remember that when he goes dark. Because he will."

There's anger at our captor in Seven"s eyes, but beneath that I do see it. I see the lust. I see the animal way he wants me. One side of him wants to break free of these chains and protect me—and he does make a valiant effort as he pulls on them with all the strength he has. But the shadow inside him wants to feed.

"Now, I need you to be a very good girl for me and go stand next to your chains facing the wall. It"s time for your punishment."

"Please," I whimper. I"m falling apart in his arms. I can barely hold myself up as the terror of that cane grips me.

"Shhhh," he says, "I"m very pleased with your begging." He cups his hand against my mound, pulling me back against him. I feel his hard length pressing into my bare skin through his pants. "You"ve earned some mercy. Now go, before you lose it again."

He releases me, and I stumble a few steps forward. Seven reaches out and catches me. His thumb strokes over my arm—a barely perceptible gesture of comfort. I look away from his gaze, right myself, and go to the other end of the cell, turning to face the wall.

When our captor comes to me, he"s collected the cane and the silver key. I think I may hyperventilate as he unlocks the shackles and locks my wrists into them. These are smaller than Seven"s for much smaller wrists—like mine.

"Press your hands flat against the wall, up near your face to support yourself," he growls in my ear. "And do not move them. You"re getting five."

I whimper as he slowly and gently drags the tip of the cane over my back. I find myself arching toward these soothing pleasurable sensations, but then he pulls away.

The pain from the first strike across my ass makes all of my nerve endings cringe, trying desperately to escape his reach. The instrument he just used to give me comfort has transformed back to its true form—a thing to be feared. My scream bounces off the walls of the cell. There's no way I can handle four more of these.

"M-master, please..."

"Ooops. I promised you some mercy. I forgot. It"s so easy to forget rules. I"m sure you can relate." His voice drips with acid.

"I"m sorry! I swear I"ll never speak his name again." It pains me to say this because I really like the sound of Seven"s name on my lips. When I forget it"s a number, the simple sound of it is comforting and sensual, like a far more sophisticated and worldly Kevin.

"Good girl," my master says.

The next four strikes are tolerable but still leave their searing impression into my flesh. Tears slide down my cheeks in response to each harsh kiss of the cane. My body trembles, but I can handle it. It doesn"t feel like the world is on fire. It doesn"t feel like I am on fire.

This time he keeps his word and stops after the fifth strike. He leans the cane against the wall and begins to carefully rub the welts he left. Then he"s kneeling behind me, his tongue trailing over them, causing me to shudder against his warm questing mouth. He presses a kiss against my skin and rises.

"You will be a good girl from now on, won"t you?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good." He presses his hand between my legs and chuckles. "I knew you would be wet for me after your punishment."

He strokes between my legs for a moment. I try not to grind against his hand, but I fail. He stops, only needing to make the point that my body belongs to him whether or not my mind has fully caught up yet.

He unlocks the shackles, and I slide bonelessly to the floor, leaning against his leg for support. But he's far from done with me. I feel the energy in him change, and I brace myself for whatever is coming next.

I chance a glance at Seven. He looks broken, like he was the one who just got caned.

"Let"s play a different game," he says. "Today it"s lady"s choice. I can fuck you while Seven watches, or I can give him a punishment to spare you this indignity."

"I"ll take the punishment," Seven says without hesitation even though he just truly healed from the last one.

"Are you a lady? I wasn"t asking you. That"s not how this game works. She gets to choose."

I bite my lip, willing myself not to cry anymore. I hate how much I cry now, how weak and fragile I"ve become in so short a time. He steps away from me, and I manage to catch myself, my hands bracing against the floor.

I look up and his cold gray gaze settles on me. He knows what I"ll choose. I can"t let him beat Seven. I can"t choose for him to beat Seven. He already took a punishment to spare me.

"I"ll take the punishment," Seven says, more insistent, this time to me. "It"s okay. I can"t watch him force himself on you."

Our captor laughs at this. "Oh, believe me, it won"t be forced. Our Kate has a secret. She wants me. And she hates herself for it. But she does want me. We have a connection. I felt it. I felt the way she surrendered in the dungeon and gave herself over to me."

"She"s terrified of you!"

"Yes. But her desire runs far deeper than her fear. And she"s so grateful for the way I awakened her to a new level of pleasure she didn"t even know she could feel." He turns to me then. "Tell me, Kate, and be honest, you know how I hate lies. You"ve thought about what it would be like when I fucked you. You"ve gotten aroused by it. Haven"t you?"

I can"t stand to say these words out loud, but I'm sure he will punish me again much worse if I lie. "Y-yes, Master."

"So, see, Seven... it actually won"t be some big horror for her to let me inside her pretty pussy. What bothers her is that you will watch and maybe judge her just a little for what a dirty whore she is. And you will watch. I would hate for her to have to degrade herself like this only for you to cheat on our game. Then I"ll have to fuck her and punish you."

"Listen to me, you don"t have to do this. I'll take the punishment," Seven says, his hazel gaze capturing mine before I look away again.

I notice he"s not saying my name. He knows what will happen if he does.

Our captor notices it, too. "Oh yes," he says. "I forgot. You don"t have anything to call her. Hmmm. If I"m going to share ownership, you need a pet name for her. How do you feel about Slut?"

Seven practically roars. He"s so angry that for a moment I"m almost more afraid of him than our captor. Despite his evil, our captor remains calm, calculated. He doesn"t do anything without thinking five moves ahead. But Seven is pure, raw emotion. Pure anger. He jerks on the chains so hard a part of me thinks he actually can pull them out of the wall and somehow save me... save us.

But the chains are solid, bolted into the concrete, too strong for even the greatest anger and protective instinct to break.

"Okay. No Slut," our captor says. "You could have just vetoed the choice. For fuck"s sake. You are such a drama queen." He paces like he"s really thinking this through. "So something cute then? Something sweet? How about Kitten?"

Seven catches my gaze, and there's a question there. I nod. I like Kitten. And I would especially like it coming out of Seven"s mouth, which makes it seem impossible that our captor will actually allow us this small kindness.

"Excellent. Kitten it is, then. See how easy that was? Not everything has to be a fight, Seven. Not every discussion is a dragon for you to slay. We can come to terms you and I. We can share her. We already know how much you enjoy her. So let"s enjoy her together."

Seven ignores the taunt and turns back to me. "Kitten, let me take the punishment. You have a choice. Use it."

I shake my head. "I can"t, Master."

He flinches almost imperceptibly when I say this, but I"m afraid if I don"t use the title, more punishment will come to me.

"Good girl," our captor says softly, reaching down to pet my hair. "You"re learning."

I lean into his touch without thought.

Every word out of his mouth is true. I don"t emotionally want him, but my body craves him. A twisted part of me does want to know what it feels like to have him moving inside of me. How will he fuck me? Will he be rough like Seven was in the shower? Or will he maintain this calculated calm?

And I do hate myself for this. He is evil. He can do any terrible thing he wants to either of us. This man quite literally has no soul. No conscience. There's nothing behind his eyes beyond the simple amusement of his game and we, his pawns. We are the pieces he moves around his game board with impunity.

I can only hope he truly doesn"t get bored and that his creativity doesn"t turn to brutal torture. It feels like he"s inside my head. I"m sure he studies and analyzes me with the help of his cameras. Always. He studies Seven, too.

He knows exactly which button to push with me and exactly when and how to push it. This is the most terrifying thing about him—how smart he is. I"ve never known somebody this smart. If he had been violent from the start with me, I might have quickly rushed to obey him, but it would have been only out of fear.

And I do fear him, more than anything I"ve ever feared. But he's right; the desire is louder. And it wouldn"t be there if he hadn"t been so patient, so gentle with me so far. Yes, he"s punished me, and it hurt, but he hasn"t done any of the extremely violent things he could have so easily done. And he didn"t rape me. And it isn"t because he isn"t capable of these things. I saw that clearly enough on Seven"s back.

All of this combines with his physical beauty to create this gratefulness and need—this sick part of me that finds myself wanting to please him to pay him back for these small kindnesses.

But I don"t kid myself about this. He wants to break me. He is breaking me. But he wants to do it with pleasure. That"s the cruelest way to do it. I know this, but still I want him. And though I feel a deep shame at the idea of Seven watching me fall... the throbbing wetness, this continuing and growing ache between my legs tells me, part of me wants him to watch.

"Make your choice, Kate. Let me fuck you while Seven watches, or let our noble hero take another punishment for you."

"Kitten..." Seven says. It comes out a low rumbling growl.

Our captor is right. There's this bizarre connection between us. I know what I"ll choose, and I know exactly how he wants me to phrase it. I know what will please him the most to hear.

So I look up at him, still kneeling on the floor. My lip trembles as I say, "Please, Master, fuck me."

"Good girl," he says, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face.

I barter with myself in this moment. I promise myself I will only give my softer feelings to Seven. I will only love Seven, because I know I am beginning to love him. Who wouldn"t? He"s perfect in every way. I"m safe with him.

But I will never love our captor. I will give him my body. I will please him. I will do whatever he asks of me, but I won"t let myself feel the things that are okay with Seven. I won"t give him my mind or my soul.

"I can"t think how I want to take you. Any requests, Seven?"

Seven is taking slow, measured breaths. I can"t reassure him that I"m okay with our captor fucking me. It sounds insane even locked safely inside my own mind. And I"m not sure I want to see the look on Seven"s face if he believed me.

He doesn"t respond to our captor"s taunts, and so I'm placed on my hands and knees, facing Seven. I hear a zipper, then pants falling to the floor. I assume he removes his T-shirt as well but I can"t bring myself to turn around and look at him. If he"s as perfect under that T-shirt as I suspect, I don"t think I could cope with the level of lust I might feel if I paused to truly drink in his beauty.

He presses a strangely sweet kiss to the small of my back, causing me to forget for the smallest fraction of a second what he is... why we"re here. A second later, his hand is moving between my legs, my arousal coating his fingers.

"She"s so wet," he says. It"s almost an accusation, as though it"s yet another thing I should be punished for.

I"m breathing hard, almost panting. I can"t believe how turned on I am. It"s wrong to feel this way, but something about my time in this cell, the realization of the hopelessness of the situation, it gives me permission to feel what I feel, no matter what that feeling might be.

Three days of hunger. Five days of peace and solace. Quiet interspersed with classical music and evil sarcasm. I am the farthest thing in the world from free, but I am free of one thing... the moral judgment or pity of the outside world. Even Seven"s possible judgment can"t touch me in this moment because I"m so aroused by the idea of him watching me like this as our captor takes me on the floor of the cell.

His hand snakes around my throat, pulling me back. "Look at him," our captor says to me. "You will hold his gaze while I fuck you. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Master."

But Seven is looking away, his gaze trained on a distant spot on the wall.

"Seven..." he warns. "Look at her. If you look at her, I"ll be gentle. If you don"t..." He doesn"t need to finish the last part of his threat.

Seven turns his face toward me, his intense hazel gaze locked on mine as our captor slides easily into me. He"s big, like Seven, but my body has decided to welcome him eagerly, not even asking for time to adjust to his size.

I moan as he slams his cock into me. It"s not exactly gentle, but it"s also not exactly unpleasant. I watch Seven watching me as I"m fucked and used at the whim of the twisted stranger who holds our lives in his hands. His fingers dig into my hips as he thrusts.

"Even if you can, don"t come this time," he growls. "This one is only for me."

There's a low, hard flip in my stomach, and I feel myself go wetter as he slides even more effortlessly in and out of me. What is wrong with me? When Seven left me wanting in the bathroom, I felt hurt. This man does it, and it feels like Christmas.

I know he'll let me come; he"s just decided that this time I'm to give him everything and take nothing other than the satisfaction of his pleasure. And the part of me too broken to know it"s broken excitedly complies with these demands.

He falls into a hypnotic rhythm, and I find myself opening to him more, so much so that I feel the teasing edges of a potential orgasm licking at my insides. I feel like I could chase it and catch it if I tried, but I let it flutter away like a wayward butterfly as he lets out a harsh groan, taking his pleasure and spilling into me.

"Look at him, Pretty Toy."

My eyes haven"t left Seven"s, but that"s not what I"m being asked to look at.

"Look how hard he is. Maybe he"s not such a hero after all. Crawl to him. I want to watch you suck his dick."

Our captor slides out of me and puts his jeans back on. I crawl over to Seven, but suddenly I can"t look at him. It"s somehow easier with our captor. Despite his mocking and taunts, I know he doesn"t judge me because he doesn"t judge. There isn"t some moral barometer inside his brain deciding this is okay and that is not. So nothing I can do will ever earn judgment from him. It may earn me punishment, but never judgment.

Seven is different. He might judge me, even if he doesn"t want to. And I find myself resenting him a little for it. But then my gaze is drawn to the evidence of his desire. He is so hard, his erection bulging behind his pants, straining to be free to get inside my mouth, to get to the warm wet pleasure he"s just been promised.

Our captor stands just behind me, his fingers tangling in my hair. "I want to watch him come down your throat, Pretty Toy. I want to watch you swallow like a good obedient whore."

I am so turned on right now. I know I shouldn"t be. I"m in too much danger to let myself fall into this fucked-up seduction. And it's even more fucked-up that my brain conjures up the word seduction in relation to anything that"s going on right now.

He removes his hand from my hair, and I turn back to Seven. I struggle with the button and zipper on his jeans to free him. When his cock springs free, I"m about to open my mouth to take him, when a glint of something shiny catches my eye. The syringe lies on the ground, outside of Seven"s reach, but not outside mine.

I chance a quick glance up at him, and his eyes widen a fraction as he realizes what I just saw. I know our captor will kill us eventually, and I don"t want to die.

Before I can let myself think or lose my courage, I grab the syringe, spin around, and jab it into our captor"s thigh. I push the plunger down, making sure all the drug has emptied into his bloodstream.

I look up to find his eyes widen as he stumbles to the ground.

"Get the key," Seven says. As if he needed to say that.

When I"m sure our captor is completely out, I slide my hand down inside his front pocket where I saw him deposit the key. It takes actual willpower not to ogle his bare chest. I"m trying to escape this psycho and somehow still feel the need to stop and admire the scenery. The animal part of me that only cares about rutting with a strong alpha male doesn"t care about the reality of the situation or why I need to flee, not mount him. But he left me wanting, and the ache between my legs hasn"t died down just because an opportunity to get away presented itself.

Finally I turn back toward Seven. "You"ll have to drag him over to the door and stretch his arm up to the panel so we can use his thumbprint to get out," I say, which truthfully is probably as obvious as his Get the key comment. But too much adrenaline is flowing to think through all the things which must be obvious to both of us in this critical moment.

I know our captor will probably be out for a while, but I"m still shaking so hard, rushing to try to unlock the metal cuff around Seven"s wrist. I still can barely comprehend our luck.

"You"re doing great," Seven says.

It takes several attempts before I"m able to successfully insert the key into the lock and turn it, freeing one of his arms. I hand him the key because I don"t think I can manage the next one on my own. He takes it from my shaking hand to unlock his other wrist.

I hear movement and turn, horrified, to find our captor standing over me. "Oh, Pretty Toy, that was an unfortunate choice."

I turn quickly back to Seven to find he"s gotten his other wrist free. He pulls himself to stand, but before he can prepare to fight off our captor, a needle is going into his neck, and he slumps to the floor. Does it just last a few minutes?

Our captor has the shackles around Seven"s wrists and the key back in his pocket faster than I can process.

I scramble back as he advances. He tips the syringe he just injected into Seven toward me to reveal a red round label on top of the plunger.

"This is the one with the drugs. What you gave me? Was a saline solution. It was a test, and I"m sorry to say you failed it, Kate."

I look over to Seven"s unconscious body then back to our captor. I don"t think people can really die from fear. Because if they could, I would be dead right now—a shadowy misty soul floating high in the air above my expired corpse. But no, fate is not so kind to give me such a quick death, and the look in his eyes says whatever is coming will be slow.

He just shakes his head at me, looking disappointed. The sickest part of this moment is the fact that there's a part of me that feels... contrite. As though I did something wrong. As though I broke his trust. His trust. Maybe it"s better if he just kills me because I"m already too aberrant to live. I don"t want to see the woman I will become if he keeps letting me breathe.

Broken sobs slip out of me even as I try to keep them locked down.

"Not going to beg me? Or was that just for when you were pretending to be a good girl?"

"Would it do any good?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"No." Gone is his sarcastic word play and his amused expressions as he reveals each new twist in his game.

He sighs, "Come with me, Pretty Toy."

I don"t move. What difference does it make if I try to obey him now or if I resist? "Are you going to kill me?"

"No, Kate." He stretches out his hand. He"s far calmer than I would expect. I did jab a needle with what I thought were drugs in his leg after all. "Now," he says.

I want him to rush at me, all anger and venom. I want him to grab me and forcibly remove me from the room, drag me kicking and screaming to the dungeon because I cannot just voluntarily walk toward him. But he doesn"t. He just waits.

He can apparently wait forever for me to go to him. What else can I do? Run? Where? Around the cell? Into the bathroom? There"s nowhere to hide, no way to escape. He can just let me wear myself out.

"It will be worse for you if you don"t come with me now."

These words are all I need to start moving, this small permission to obey him without self-recrimination. After all, it will be worse if I don"t. So I"m not the stupid girl walking willingly to her doom. I"m the smart girl, stopping this from escalating and becoming worse.

I take the offered hand and he leads me over to the door. There's a brief pause while he presses his thumb against the thumbprint scanner, and the door slides open, taking us back out into that impossibly ornate hallway.

"Are you hungry?" he asks.

I hadn"t noticed it with everything that has transpired. "Yes, Master."

I expect he will lead me to the end of the hallway and that other steel door that leads into the underground dungeon, but he doesn"t. Instead, we stop a couple of doors before that where he takes me into a large modern kitchen.

"Sit," he says, indicating a bar near the kitchen island.

I sit on a stool, bewildered.

"I"m going to say this once, Kate. This house is locked down. There's no way out. Every window is locked and can only be opened with a key. Each door is locked. The windows are shatterproof. There's an alarm that would sound anyway if anything was breached. So don"t be stupid again."

I watch quietly as he takes out some pans and begins to make bacon and eggs. I don"t understand what's happening. I thought he was going to kill me, but he claims he isn"t. And I"m sure he'll punish me. The fact that he"s decided he wants to feed me right now is beyond my comprehension.

I feel suddenly self-conscious being naked upstairs in his bright kitchen with black and white parquet floors and the huge windows which offer me a stunning view of the gently rolling landscape outside.

My gaze shifts to a wooden block with an array of no doubt very sharp kitchen knives in it. He turns away from the stove and catches my guilty gaze.

He chuckles. "Don"t even think about it. You don"t want to escalate our relationship to knives. Trust me."

I swallow hard and nod. Even as the smell of bacon and eggs wafts to my nose, I"m losing my appetite. How can I possibly eat knowing something extremely bad is about to happen to me? I try to keep my tears quiet, but I fail.

He makes no comment.

When the food is done, he places it in front of me and pours me a glass of milk. "Eat."

I"m not sure if it"s the smell of the food triggering my appetite or if somehow biologically my body now responds to his commands. I think it"s the first thing but I wouldn"t swear on it.

"Aren"t you going to eat?" I ask.

"I already ate."

He cleans up the kitchen and washes the dishes, then he leans against the kitchen island, watching me as I finish up the last bite of eggs. He takes the plate and glass from me and washes those as well. I pray it takes him forever to finish this task so I can stay in the warm, bright, safe kitchen a little longer. At the same time, I can"t stand the maddeningly slow way he moves, the way he drags out the time leading to whatever horrors await me for stabbing him with a needle while trying to escape. Can he really blame me for wanting to be free and safe?

"Come, Pretty Toy," he says.

Then he just walks out of the kitchen. He doesn"t grab me and drag me along like some hostage. He simply expects that I will get up and follow him. And I will because every door and window is locked. Everything is shatterproof. There's an alarm. Resisting or running is pointless, and it will only make him angry. I bite back another sob as I slide off the kitchen bar stool and follow him out of the room and the rest of the way down the hallway to that steel door with the security panel that leads down to hell.

He inputs a code, and the door slides open. There's a wide, sweeping motion of his arm in that gallant after you gesture. I"m sure I"m about to faint. A wave of dizziness moves over me, and my legs don"t want to support my body anymore, but I take a deep breath, and it passes.

He waits.

I feel the tears sliding down my cheeks again. But I know they don"t move him—at least not in the way I would want them to. The outline of his erection pressing against the fabric of his jeans tells me that much. I walk in front of him, down the winding stairs into the dungeon.

I"m already on my knees when he gets down there, mostly because I can"t hold myself up. And really, it"s more like child"s pose in yoga. I need to breathe, and this is the only way I can get deep enough breaths into my body without hyperventilating. It"s only a bonus that I know it will please him and look like submission. Maybe it is submission. I know it"s fear.

His footsteps stop next to me, and then he sits on the ground. I flinch when he strokes my hair and then my back. Over and over again. This is the last thing I expected from him after what happened upstairs—gentleness. And I know it"s a lie, but I don"t care. I will drink it up like it"s the last drop of water on earth. I need just another few minutes of peace before he hurts me.

Oh god, what is he going to do to me?

"I"m not going to harm you," he finally says.

"But I thought..." I shut my mouth because what the fuck am I doing? If he"s decided not to hurt me, I don"t want to argue him out of it. Be smarter, Kate.

"I"m going to train you. Don"t misunderstand. This isn"t kindness or a long lost conscience rearing its head. It"s just the best choice for the outcome I want. Punishment and pain are always an option. And I'll use them as necessary, but I want to own every part of you. Completely. If I use too much pain, your fear will drive you to try to escape again. I would never truly own you. But if I inspire gratitude... you"re mine forever."

Well, at least he"s laid out his evil plan, so I don"t have to drive myself crazy trying to figure out what"s going on. Even as I think these thoughts, I know he"s calculated the choice of even telling me this. And already I feel gratitude moving through me, unbidden. When one goes from thinking they"re going to die to thinking they"re going to be tortured, to a good breakfast and the absence of those things... gratitude is the only response one is capable of.

I know I shouldn"t feel it. He"s keeping me as a slave. He took me away from my life—such that it was. None of this is okay, but I feel so grateful anyway as if everything he"s done so far has been one giant favor. And the pleasure and desire that repeatedly winds its way through me at his touch and the promise of it makes it seem true.

The words, "Thank you, Master," slip out of me so fast I can"t stop them.

He chuckles at this. He has me exactly where he wants me. I think he wanted me to jab that needle into him no matter what he says about his disappointment at me failing his test. He"s not disappointed. It"s all going according to plan.

Even if I had experience with psychopaths, it wouldn"t matter. I'm one hundred percent sure that there's not another human alive who would make the choices this man makes. He possesses the most terrifying combination of brilliance, evil, and patience. And I'm the unlucky lottery winner of his attentions.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I whisper.

"That question was a long time coming. Because I want to."

There's a long silence. He finally speaks again. "Were you expecting a sad childhood story? Did you want to understand what turned me into such a soulless beast? Would that make it all okay? If you could point to some moment in time where I was a sad, scared little boy? Well, sorry to disappoint, Pretty Toy. That"s not my story. My parents gave me everything I could ever want. I started out having everything, and then I doubled that wealth. I've acquired every object I've ever wanted, and now I"ve acquired you. My living, breathing fuck doll."

He stands, then I feel his hands wrapped around mine, helping me off the floor. He leads me to the bondage bed at the far end of the dungeon and lays me down on my back. I watch as he goes to the large box where he got the vibrator the last time. He returns with a ball gag.

"Open," he says when he"s beside me.

I open my mouth, and he presses the black rubber ball into place, fastening the straps behind my head. Then he presses a button on a remote, and the classical music I"d almost forgotten about begins to fill the dungeon. It"s all so... civilized.

He doesn"t restrain me. On a certain level, it"s overkill. He doesn"t need to tie me down unless it pleases him. The door at the top of the stairs is locked. There's no way out. I could jump off the bed and try to run, but he might change his mind about punishment if I do that. And I would eventually get tired. He only has to wait me out. He"s already shown how patient and willing to wait he is.

The gag is worse than the restraints. With restraints, I can still beg. Even though I know there's nothing human in him, it still seems to amuse him and please him enough to offer me small indulgences. But I don"t even have the power to beg now.

I watch warily as he lies beside me. He props himself on his side and observes me. I look away from his cold gray stare. It"s too much to have that gaze leveled on me, taking me in, analyzing, deciding my fate.

"Look at me, Pretty Toy," he says. There's a warning wrapped inside the command.

I take a breath and look back at him, trying to hold his gaze. I flinch when he brushes my hair out of my eyes. Then he spends a small eternity just stroking my breasts and watching my reactions. He massages them first gently, then more roughly. He pinches my nipples into hard points and then releases the pressure.

Eventually, the tension eases from my body. I become soft and yielding. I find myself pressing into his hand, moaning behind the gag, my eyes drifting closed as my body arches into each caress.

"Good girl," he murmurs.

These words unlock the need between my legs as the arousal pulses to life again.

"If I put my fingers inside your pussy, will you be wet for me?"

I nod.

His hand trails over my belly and between my legs. I can hear my wetness as he presses a finger inside me. He smiles, satisfied with my body"s response.

"This is mine. And because I allow it, Seven"s. You"re going to be our good whore. No more silly escape attempts. No more denying your desires. You want this, don"t you, Pretty Toy?"

I could lie to myself. I could say that I only nod in answer to appease him, to try to stay safe. But I do have needs. I"m only human, and they are both so beautiful. There's no resistance to Seven. But our captor? I wish it was somehow okay to want what he"s doing right now, to just exist and float on this haze of erotic satisfaction.

I"m supposed to fight. I"m supposed to struggle and cry and beg him not to touch me. But I just open my legs wider, holding his gaze, arching up to meet his fingers as they slide in and out of me.

"You will give me your pleasure. It belongs to me. The first thing you need to learn is how to come for me."

I"m pretty sure I already know how to do that. I feel myself blush at the memory of what he did that first day on this bed.

He chuckles. "No, I mean you"re going to learn how to come for me. You"re going to come, and then come again, and then again, until I say it"s time to stop. Sometimes pleasure can be so much that it becomes pain. You"ll learn that, and then you"ll learn to accept it and push through it to give me more of your pleasure. Until I allow you to stop."

My eyes widen at this. I"m not that woman who has multiple orgasms. I don"t know that I can"t, I"ve just never tried. I"m satisfied after one. Again I find myself wondering what happens if I can"t give him what he wants. A punishment of some type? I"m growing less afraid that he"ll kill me. My escape attempt didn"t push him to it so I now feel irrationally safe from death—at least for the foreseeable future. I"m not sure how accurate this assessment is, but it makes me feel the tiniest bit less guilty for the way I crave his touch.

He gets up and stretches my arms and legs out and binds me to the bed, much like he had me that first day. He produces a blindfold from a drawer in the base of the bed and secures it around my eyes.

I feel the panic edging in. Bound, no sight, no ability to cry out.

"Shhhh," he says, stroking the side of my face. "I will remove the gag on one condition. You"re not allowed to beg. You can make any sounds you want but no words. Do you accept these terms?"

I nod, desperate to have even the tiniest freedom.

"I want to be sure you understand. If you beg me, if you say a single word to me that I don"t command, you will be punished. I can leave the gag in. It won"t be comfortable, but you"ll be safe. Do you want me to leave it in?"

I shake my head.

He sighs. "All right. Be careful with this favor, Pretty Toy. It may bite you in the end."

This scares me a little. Can I resist the urge to beg? To try to reason with him? To speak the title he"s demanded from me over and over?

I don"t know, but the gag is starting to hurt, and it makes me panic and feel like I can"t take in proper breaths. He unfastens the straps and pulls it off me. I lick my dry lips, then something plastic prods at my mouth.

"Drink." When I hesitate, he says "It"s only water."

I take the water he offers, then lie back when he pulls it away.

A moment later, I feel his tongue between my legs, and I'm already past the point of even pretending to resist him. I don"t speak. I don"t beg. I just arch up toward his exploring tongue, whimpers and moans flowing out of me.

My first orgasm comes after only a few minutes. But he doesn"t stop. He drinks me up, never slowing in his assault on my senses. He pulls away, and I"m panting.

He leaves me for a moment, and I take a long shaky breath. I know he isn"t finished with me. Upon his return, I hear the distinct buzzing sound. I can tell he has it on the highest setting.

I cringe away before he reaches me, but he spreads me wide so that he can press these intense vibrations directly against my clit. I struggle away from the sensation, but there's nowhere to go. He grips my hip, stilling me.

"Be good and accept it, Pretty Toy."

I breathe slowly. After a little while, the sensations start to feel like pleasure again as another orgasm prepares to crest over me. But before it can, he pulls it away from my clit.

The words "Please, Master" are at the edge of my tongue before I bite them back, remembering the promise of punishment.

He chuckles at this. He pushes the vibrator inside me much as he did that first day. This time I know I"ll come. And it"s as earthshattering as it was the first time, building from some place deep within me and then exploding outward. I buck my hips with it, trying to fuck the toy instead of the toy fucking me.

I"m panting and whimpering when it finally subsides, and he pulls the toy away. But he only allows me a minute of rest before he"s started in on me again. He uses multiple toys in a rotation as he drags orgasm out of orgasm from my quivering pussy.

My legs shake with the force of each release, and I bite my tongue to stop myself from begging please, no more. Please, please, Master, stop. But I hold these words in. I don"t want to be punished. But in its own way, this is becoming a different kind of punishment.

Still, I don"t allow myself to beg.

Some of the toys vibrate, some of them don"t. One feels similar to oral sex against my clit. Some are larger than others, stretching me as they make me come for him. Sometimes he stimulates my clit, and other times he brings my orgasm out from the inside, training me to produce these new and exciting pleasurable pulses at his command.

I"ve lost count of how many orgasms I"ve had.

The next thing that slides inside me is his cock. He"s on top of me, his movements so achingly slow that even with all the pleasure I"ve already had, I find myself arching up into him.

He leans close to my ear. "This time, you will come."

I"ve come so many times since we"ve been down here that it"s nothing to my body to do it just one more time for his cock. He shudders and releases inside me as my pussy grips onto him, milking him while riding out my own orgasm.

Finally, he collapses on top of me. And then he"s peppering kisses over my throat, moving to my mouth, causing me to jump as his tongue slips inside. His kiss is consuming, possessing. I didn"t expect him to kiss me, and I"m so confused by how it makes me feel.

After a few more minutes, I hear him collecting and moving things about. Water runs in an attached room, probably a bathroom, as he cleans things up. He returns and unties me but leaves the blindfold in place. I feel unsteady as he helps me to stand.

"Come with me," he says. He guides me slowly across the floor and up the stairs. When we leave the dungeon I sense we"re moving back down that same hallway.

I think he"s returning me to the cell, but there's a shift in direction. Then we"re climbing another set of stairs. Another hallway. After what just happened in the dungeon, I feel so tired, I"m afraid I"ll collapse. But before I can, he picks me up and lays me down on a bed.

He locks a chain around my ankle and removes the blindfold. He covers me with blankets. I"m dimly aware that he"s brought me up to what must be his room.

"Sleep."

He pulls the shades down and turns out the light, then leaves me alone in his bed. I haven"t been awake that long, but after all that happened this morning, I'm so exhausted that it doesn"t take very long for sleep to claim me.