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He let out a sigh and released his grip on her. “Because it's okay if you did. It's not your fault. It doesn't mean you wanted...”
“I know that... but I didn't. The last time was before he took me.”
Ari sighed. “Why? Why haven't you let yourself come? You obviously needed it, so why haven't you touched yourself?”
She pulled away from him and curled in on herself. For the first time, her nudity was becoming a problem. She felt too exposed. She wished he'd stop looking at her like that. It wasn't fair. He had on jeans. And she was left naked and vulnerable, having a conversation she very much did not want to be having.
“Claire...”
“I just can't, okay!”
“Why?”
She shook her head and curled into a tighter ball. She flinched when he touched her back.
“Would you rather tell me or go back to the dungeon? I won't allow you to keep secrets from me.”
Was Ari as bad as that other man? How was he any different? Why did she want him so much? Some sick twisted place inside of her wanted his control. She wanted his demands and his orders. She wanted the implacable absoluteness of him. Even though it was so fucked up. She wanted to just give everything to him.
If this was the way toward absolution, she would do it. The immediate panic over being his captive was receding in light of the way he kept restraining himself with her. She just wanted to obey him. But how could she want that?
It had been so hard holding the pieces of herself together all alone in the world. She'd had no one to confide in. No one to trust. She just didn't want to do it anymore. She couldn't do it anymore. And yet... she couldn't admit this out loud. The deep dark shame that no one else could ever know about.
“Please don't make me talk about this,” she whimpered.
He patted her on the hip. “All right. Come on, let's go back to the dungeon.”
“Master, please...”
“Tell me, then. Why can't you touch yourself?”
“Because I can't get off unless I...” She couldn't say this out loud. It was too fucked up. But Ari had all these whips and chains all over his house. He would understand. He wouldn't judge her... would he? Did she care if he judged her? What he was doing was as disturbed as any of her fantasies. They were both a mess.
“Unless you fantasize about things you can't let yourself think about anymore because of what happened to you?” he asked quietly.
She let out a long shuddering breath and nodded.
“Did you have these fantasies before you were taken?”
“Yes, but they aren't okay anymore.”
He moved so fast she could barely process what had happened. All at once, he had her out of the curled-up ball she'd huddled herself into, flat on her back. He straddled her, staring her down, a hand wrapped around her throat. He wasn't squeezing, just holding her there. But hecouldsqueeze. And they both knew it.
But despite their positions, she got the strangest feeling that Ari didn't truly want to hurt her. He wanted things from her, but he didn't want to damage her in the process. She was beginning to realize his motivation for taking her hadn't been revenge.
She gasped as he held her, her body arching toward him even as she knew a smart woman would be pulling away or struggling or pleading for mercy. She'd only thought she was wrung out. That aching pulsing throb started between her legs again.
Claire's gaze was held hostage in his.
“This excites you, doesn't it? Tell me the truth.”
“Y-yes,” she gasped.
Ari stroked the side of her face. “Good girl. I want you to be excited for me.”
She whimpered and leaned into his touch. She could feel herself falling. She imagined the shattered pieces of herself drifting off into the wind somewhere. And she didn't have the will or energy to chase after them. She just watched it happen. It was easier to give in.
Already she felt more peace as Ari's slave than she'd felt since the moment she'd decided to capture him. Everything that had been wound so tight inside her just released in the face of this new reality.
