energy, I get up from the floor, my nightgown barely covering my private parts. I stand there staring right back at him.
“Come here,” he says with an assertive voice.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. I can choose to fight him, to run and risk my chances. But the possibility of ending up having to endure countless hours without food or those orgasmic waves for hours on end is enough to make me want to forget that option even exists. Choosing to obey would be the easier choice … but at what cost? My sanity.
Giving in to him means admitting that I need to submit. That he is right, and I am wrong. He’s giving me the idea of a choice, but not the freedom that comes with it.
My legs are still shaky as I approach him, my stomach still growling as though it’s trying to make up for all the lost food by eating it all in one go.
He beckons me as if to say, “There’s more where that came from.” All I need to do is beg.
Beg … and obey. It all seems so simple, yet I cannot stop fighting the turmoil in my head.
He looks up at me from his seated position, taunting me to act. He has no weapon, nothing to keep me in place or stop me from attacking him. It’s a test. I can sense it.
His eyes narrow. “Kneel.”
I shudder but still do as he asks, realizing that doing so would be the safest choice. I bend through the knees until I’m on the floor in front of him. He cocks his head and leans over to grab a strand of my hair, only to slowly tuck it behind my ear. The gentleness of his touch catches me off guard.
How can a captor be so gentle and such a monster at the same time? Every single touch he gives me right now is one I crave, and I don’t know why. Have I lost my mind already?
His thumb lingers near my mouth, a simple touch to my lips sending electricity down my spine. His finger still smells of strawberry pancakes and delicious sin. Mere minutes ago, he was feeding me with these same fingers. A man who denied me food and then gave it to me anyway just because I asked …
Confusion settles in slowly but surely, and judging from the haunting look on his face, that’s exactly what he had planned.
He leans back again in the chair and places both hands on the armrests like a king judging his people. “Tell me again what you told me in that library,” he says. “Your deepest, darkest wish.”
I gasp. I’ve tried so hard not to remember why I said those words. And I know that’s the reason he forces me to say them out loud.
I look down at my own knees, wondering how I got here. Why I gave in so easily and whether it’s going to be worth it in the end. “I asked to be punished.”
“Exactly,” he replies. “Now look at me.”
When I do what he asks, his hand moves down to his belt, which he slowly unbuckles. Then he pulls the button on his pants and zips down. I gulp when he nudges down his boxer shorts, and his cock springs out.
I’ve seen my fair share of men, but this … he’s so huge that it almost makes my eyes fall out. His tongue briefly darts out to wet his lips, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact I was staring. But my body still tenses up as he grasps his cock. What is he going to make me do? Will he tell me to pleasure him as a punishment?
He starts rubbing himself in front of me. At first it’s slow, careful, like he’s taking his time to enjoy himself. And I keep my eyes on him, not because he asked me to, but because I want him to know exactly what I feel and think about him. Because I’m waiting for him to pull the trigger, get up, and fuck me.
But as the more time passes and the harder he jerks off, the more I’m beginning to doubt my own conclusions. When he stands, I take a deep breath. Here he comes.
I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable. All men eventually end up savages.
The longer I wait, the more it seems like forever.
“Look at me,” he growls.
When I open my eyes, he’s still right in front of me,