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“This is pleasure,” he says. “Do you want the demonstration again, or can you choose now?”
I know which he wants me to choose. If I deny him this and choose pain, he will make me regret it. Maybe he won't draw blood with the flogger, but it will hurt. What he just gave me was only a taste.
And so I fall. I submit. I give him what will please him even as it will break away a piece of my soul.
“Pleasure, Master.”
“You're such a sweet whore,” he says. His fingers fuck me harder as I buck shamelessly against his hand. It feels good, but I know I can't really come this way. I've never had that kind of orgasm—the one that comes from the inside. Part of me thinks they are a myth. Even so, I'm determined to fake it if necessary to please this dangerous man and save myself whatever pain I can.
But I don't have to. His other hand slips underneath me and rubs my clit. He drives me harder and harder, my body growing wetter and more aroused with each pleasurable sensation he offers me.
“Come, Kate,” he demands.
I wish he would call me Pretty Toy or even sweet whore. Not Kate. I can't stand to hear my name on his lips as I come apart in his hands.
The pleasure shatters me, and he is pleased.
“Good girl.”
I shut my eyes as the shame crawls over me. I didn't just let this monster touch me, I wanted him to. My body craved him. If he had wanted to fuck me, I would have spread my legs wider and thrust my hips up at him in obedient invitation. I wouldn't have screamed or cried or begged him to stop.
This can't be me. This can't be who I am.
I think he'll untie me now and take me back to the cell, but he doesn't. Instead he goes to the box in the corner and comes back with a blindfold. I let him tie the dark cloth around my eyes without complaint because there’s relief here. I don't have to look at him or be ensnared by that cold gray gaze. I can hide here.
“I'm not quite done with you. I want to test something.”
He releases me from my bonds, then urges me onto my back and restrains me again, spread-eagled. I'm even more grateful for the blindfold now. This is too exposed. I want to beg him, but I'm not sure what I would be begging for. So I remain quiet and hide in this darkness he's offered me.
I hear his footsteps retreat. I hear things being moved around in that box he got the blindfold out of. Then he returns to me and sits beside me on the bed.
“I'm going to ask you some questions, Pretty Toy. And it's very important for your own safety that you tell me the truth. I'm good at spotting liars. You do not want to test me. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Good. Do you masturbate?”
“Yes, Master,” I whisper.
He releases one of my hands. “Show me how you do it.”
“Please...” Even after all he's seen... even after how he's touched me and watched me come, I can't touch myself while he watches. I just... can't.
“I can still punish you,” he says.
I don't want him to punish me. I'm too afraid after what I saw of Seven's back that if he gets started, if he gets too much of a taste for hurting me, he won't stop, and I won't survive it. Or if I do, I'll wish I hadn't.
My hand drifts down between my legs, and I begin to stroke my clit. I can feel his intense gaze on me. I feel like he's studying me, evaluating me—as though I'm getting some sort of performance review.
“Stop,” he says.
My hand stills over my pussy.
“Do you not go inside?”
I shake my head.
“Why not?”
