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“Shhh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't want to take more risks than we had to.”
“It's okay.”
Is this why he hasn't taken? Even though we’re being fed on a regular schedule, I’m still bait. I'm still naked, locked in an enclosed space with a man strong enough to take what he wants. And he would never get caught by any outside authorities because we both know we will never be free.
If he wasn't afraid I'd get pregnant—with whatever added horror that might entail—would he still have had this saintly self-control?
He's stroking my hair. “Do you want me?” he asks.
He never asked if I wanted him to stroke me to orgasm each night in the dark. My legs falling open when he reached my thighs was enough for him. But this is obviously different.
“Yes, Master.”
A sharp intake of breath is his only reply. He does like it when I call him that. He doesn't want to like it, but he likes it.
“You know you don't have to call me that when we're alone.”
“I have to call you something, and he won't allow names. It doesn't bother me.”
“Climb on top of me and ride me,” he says, choosing not to address the fact that calling him master doesn't bother me.
It's such a weird thing for me to have said, but it doesn't bother me. In the time we've been captive together I've started to feel this strange submissive urge toward him. I like the idea of him having this power. It makes me feel safer even though I know I'm not.
I turn and straddle him, sliding down over his huge cock. I don't know how many times we'll do this, but I'm sure I’ll never get used to his size.
“You are so fucking tight. How are you so fucking tight?”
I shrug. “No children?”
“Good point.”
I close my eyes and slowly start to move. I brace my hands against his chest. His hands come up and close over mine.
“Open your eyes. Look at me,” he says.
I open my eyes and hold his hazel gaze. This can't really be called fucking. It's making love. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but it's what it is. It's slow and sweet, but the angles are all wrong. It's too hard to do this in this tub. Seven realizes the same thing.
“Let's move to the shower,” he says.
“Okay.” I get up on shaking legs, and he helps me out of the tub. He pulls the plug and lets that water drain as he moves us into the huge shower. He doesn't turn the water on. He just pulls me into the enclosed glass space with him. Without a word, he bends me forward until my hands are resting flat on the ground.
I gasp when he enters me from behind. I've never done this in this position. The penetration is so deep that I feel this excited flip in my stomach with every thrust. I've secretly wanted his cock inside me again for so long that I don't need him to tease me or work me up. I'm already wet and ready for him.
The wait, the tightness, the angle, it's all too much for him, too. He drives into me with such ferocity it steals my breath. No sweet words of endearment are exchanged between us. We are no longer making love. We are fucking. Or he is fucking me. There is something animal and wild in this moment. His ability to resist this has frayed at the edges. He has frayed at the edges.
He lets out a harsh guttural sound when he comes, then he pulls out of me. I think I might cry. I know he didn't mean it this way, but I feel like he just used me for his own pleasure without anything for me—like he just masturbated inside my body. A part of me is turned on, but another part is pissed being left like this, so desperate and needing.
I know I'm technically way ahead on the orgasm count, but still.
He steps out of the shower, and I just stand there for several minutes, numb. How is it that what happened in the dungeon with that sick psychopath feels like less of a violation somehow than this? I just had a bath, but I feel like I need another one.
I'm about to turn on the water and bathe again when he says, “Come out here.”
I step out of the shower to find he's laid several large thick bath towels down on the tile floor. He motions for me and I join him.
“Lie down.”
I wonder if these short sharp orders are a result of hearing the word Master on my lips. It's as though this word flips a switch inside him, and suddenly he wants to possess me.
