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I struggle to get away from him, but his impossible grip only gets tighter. “Careful, now. Probably best not to irritate the psycho,” he says.
At least he knows he's crazy. I'm not sure if that helps or only makes it worse.
Behind this new high-security steel door is a set of stairs that spiral down. The walls are white, and the stairs look like stairs in an office building. There are guide lights in the floor which offer the only illumination. The stairs seem to go down forever, and the further we go into this pit, the more claustrophobic I become.
It's some kind of sex dungeon. There are whips and paddles and floggers and canes. Clamps of various types and sizes. A box full of sex toys and blindfolds. Bondage equipment is scattered around the room. There’s a large cage on one end of this endless underground space. And there’s a bed, built with the explicit understanding that someone should be bound to it.
A part of me wishes I didn't know what all of this stuff was for. But I know. I'm crying again. It started before I even realized—traitorous tears making escape attempts down my cheeks.
I flinch when he wipes away a stray tear with his thumb. “Don't cry yet, Pretty Toy. I haven't even gotten started. Save your tears for the good part.”
This only makes me cry harder, and the sinister smirk that inches up his cheek only confirms this was the reaction he was hoping for.
“You're here because you disobeyed me. You both disobeyed me.”
Is he talking about the fact that we didn't immediately rush to fuck for his viewing pleasure when he first told us this was the price for food? Before I can ask this question, he continues.
“I told you, no names, Kate. But the first opportunity you got, the two of you huddled in your private shower and started whispering secrets. I may not have cameras in the bathroom, but I do have listening devices, one embedded in the shower in fact. Seven thought he could outsmart me. You have to be punished, Pretty Toy. I can't have this defiance.”
“Master, please.” I want to say it was Seven's idea, but my captor knows that already, and I can't stand the idea of betraying Seven, so I don't say anything more.
I jerk away when he strokes my hair.
“Don't worry. He took a greater punishment to protect you, and I always keep my word. You can handle what I'm about to do. I won't break your skin. I don't want to break my Pretty Toy after all, now do I?”
A long slow breath pushes its way out of me as my hysteria calms the tiniest fraction. I know he could be lying. I know he's evil. I know he's going to kill us when he's finished with his game, but I hold out hope that Seven really did take a harder punishment to give me a lighter one.
“Go lie down on the bed. On your stomach, arms and legs spread out like an X.”
I can't do this. My body refuses to move to obey his command. There isn't enough air in this room. I can't. I know I have no choices here. He could get tired of me and kill me. The more easily I do whatever he wants the longer I'm sure I'll live, but I can't.
My body refuses to hold me up, and suddenly I'm on the ground, kneeling in front of him.
“Master please... please, I'm sorry I disobeyed. Please... don't hurt me. I promise I'll never do it again,” I whimper. I am so pathetic right now. And a part of me knows this will only excite him, only drive him on, but I can't stop myself from begging and hoping for mercy he obviously doesn't possess.
He's cold and empty and completely unreachable, which only makes me feel more helpless. It makes me sick to think of Seven being beaten down here, knowing I would be next and that he can't truly protect me. No one can protect me.
“Kate,” he says quietly. “I will only tell you once more. Get up and do what I said. Otherwise, I won't go easier on you, and Seven's suffering will have been for nothing. Is that what you want?”
“No, Master.”
“Then obey me.”
There’s suddenly a hand next to my face, offering to help me stand. I take his hand and struggle to my feet. Then, having no other options, I go to the bed and lie down spread-eagled like he demanded.
I continue to cry hopelessly as he binds me to the bed with the attached restraints. They aren't for show or light play. A grown man couldn't get out of them on his own. I wonder if Seven was in this same spot only a little while ago or if our captor tied him to something else, maybe the giant X-shaped contraption leaning against one of the exposed brick walls.
I watch as he goes to the wall where the whipping implements hang, deciding what to use on me. He returns with a flogger. It's not the worst thing he could have picked, but he could still make it unbearable.
He sits on the bed beside me, and I flinch as he strokes my hair and then my back.
“Shhh, Pretty Toy.”
He continues this soothing behavior until my body has no choice but to relax and calm under his touch. Something inside me gives up the fight to tense in his hands.
“That's a good girl,” he soothes. His gaze holds mine as he says this.
His eyes really are beautiful. But they are so cold it's hard to look into them. They are gray like a storm. It's as though they were formed from pieces of ice. I'm certain there’s nothing that could melt his gaze.
