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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.
“As long as you're a good girl for me, I won't get a new toy to replace you.”
He doesn't spell it out, but we both know what replacing me means. It doesn't mean he'll let me go.
I wish he wasn't so attractive. There’s a twisted sick part of me that has a hard time completely understanding the danger he represents. This part of my mind can only process his beauty, and the way he's touching me isn't helping. These soothing gentle caresses are confusing.
My body arches into his touch as his hand strokes farther downward, until he's rubbing my ass. I should pull away even though there’s nowhere for me to go. I want to pull away. I'm so scared right now, but I know he will do whatever he wants with me, and all my brain can process is that I’ll be safe as long as I’m a good girl.
This thought repeats over and over in my mind like a mantra.
I don't really know this is true, but I cling to it anyway.
I'm caught off guard by the hard smack on my ass. It's followed by several more sharp blows in quick succession. I cry out, part from pain, part from shock at the sudden shift. But before I can tense up again, he's back to the soothing stroking.
Heat rises into my face as I realize my body has decided this is sexually exciting. Wetness floods between my legs. It's such a betrayal, this thing my body is doing to me. It was different with Seven. It's okay with Seven.
But this nameless man who took me off the street and locked me in a cell... I can't feel this when he touches me. I can't allow it. But my body doesn't care. My body equally craves the touch of both men. There is no either/or, it is only both/and. My eyes have greedily drunk both men's beauty and found them equally satisfying.
He spanks me again, this time the other cheek, and before he even gets to the gentle caress, even in the midst of the pain as I cry out, a deep throbbing ache begins between my legs. He rubs the sting out where he spanked me.
“Are you wet for me?” he asks.
I don't bother to lie because as bad as it is for me, I know the truth will please him. And that may be good for me.
“Yes, Master.”
