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“Excellent. Kitten it is, then. See how easy that was? Not everything has to be a fight, Seven. Not every discussion is a dragon for you to slay. We can come to terms you and I. We can share her. We already know how much you enjoy her. So let's enjoy her together.”
Seven ignores the taunt and turns back to me. “Kitten, let me take the punishment. You have a choice. Use it.”
I shake my head. “I can't, Master.”
He flinches almost imperceptibly when I say this, but I'm afraid if I don't use the title, more punishment will come to me.
“Good girl,” our captor says softly, reaching down to pet my hair. “You're learning.”
I lean into his touch without thought.
Every word out of his mouth is true. I don't emotionally want him, but my body craves him. A twisted part of me does want to know what it feels like to have him moving inside of me. How will he fuck me? Will he be rough like Seven was in the shower? Or will he maintain this calculated calm?
And I do hate myself for this. He is evil. He can do any terrible thing he wants to either of us. This man quite literally has no soul. No conscience. There’s nothing behind his eyes beyond the simple amusement of his game and we, his pawns. We are the pieces he moves around his game board with impunity.
I can only hope he truly doesn't get bored and that his creativity doesn't turn to brutal torture. It feels like he's inside my head. I'm sure he studies and analyzes me with the help of his cameras. Always. He studies Seven, too.
He knows exactly which button to push with me and exactly when and how to push it. This is the most terrifying thing about him—how smart he is. I've never known somebody this smart. If he had been violent from the start with me, I might have quickly rushed to obey him, but it would have been only out of fear.
And Idofear him, more than anything I've ever feared. But he’s right; the desire is louder. And it wouldn't be there if he hadn't been so patient, so gentle with me so far. Yes, he's punished me, and it hurt, but he hasn't done any of the extremely violent things he could have so easily done. And he didn't rape me. And it isn't because he isn't capable of these things. I saw that clearly enough on Seven's back.
All of this combines with his physical beauty to create this gratefulness and need—this sick part of me that finds myselfwantingto please him to pay him back for these small kindnesses.
But I don't kid myself about this. He wants to break me. Heisbreaking me. But he wants to do it with pleasure. That's the cruelest way to do it. I know this, but still I want him. And though I feel a deep shame at the idea of Seven watching me fall... the throbbing wetness, this continuing and growing ache between my legs tells me, part of me wants him to watch.
“Make your choice, Kate. Let me fuck you while Seven watches, or let our noble hero take another punishment for you.”
“Kitten...” Seven says. It comes out a low rumbling growl.
Our captor is right. There’s this bizarre connection between us. I know what I'll choose, and I know exactly how he wants me to phrase it. I know what will please him the most to hear.
So I look up at him, still kneeling on the floor. My lip trembles as I say, “Please, Master, fuck me.”
“Good girl,” he says, a slow, amused smile spreading across his face.
I barter with myself in this moment. I promise myself I will only give my softer feelings to Seven. I will onlyloveSeven, because I know I am beginning to love him. Who wouldn't? He's perfect in every way. I'm safe with him.
But I will never love our captor. I will give him my body. I will please him. I will do whatever he asks of me, but I won't let myself feel the things that are okay with Seven. I won't give him my mind or my soul.
“I can't think how I want to take you. Any requests, Seven?”
Seven is taking slow, measured breaths. I can't reassure him that I'm okay with our captor fucking me. It sounds insane even locked safely inside my own mind. And I'm not sure I want to see the look on Seven's face if he believed me.
He doesn't respond to our captor's taunts, and so I’m placed on my hands and knees, facing Seven. I hear a zipper, then pants falling to the floor. I assume he removes his T-shirt as well but I can't bring myself to turn around and look at him. If he's as perfect under that T-shirt as I suspect, I don't think I could cope with the level of lust I might feel if I paused to truly drink in his beauty.
He presses a strangely sweet kiss to the small of my back, causing me to forget for the smallest fraction of a second what he is... why we're here. A second later, his hand is moving between my legs, my arousal coating his fingers.
“She's so wet,” he says. It's almost an accusation, as though it's yet another thing I should be punished for.
I'm breathing hard, almost panting. I can't believe how turned on I am. It's wrong to feel this way, but something about my time in this cell, the realization of the hopelessness of the situation, it gives me permission to feel what I feel, no matter what that feeling might be.
Three days of hunger. Five days of peace and solace. Quiet interspersed with classical music and evil sarcasm. I am the farthest thing in the world from free, but I am free of one thing... the moral judgment or pity of the outside world. Even Seven's possible judgment can't touch me in this moment because I'm so aroused by the idea of him watching me like this as our captor takes me on the floor of the cell.
His hand snakes around my throat, pulling me back. “Look at him,” our captor says to me. “You will hold his gaze while I fuck you. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
But Seven is looking away, his gaze trained on a distant spot on the wall.
