AllFreeNovel
Share Us
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.
