Page 41 of Code of Captivity

“You don’t need to kill anyone, Bunny. That’s what I’m here for,” I growled against her hair, gripping her clit between my thumb and fingers. “Because I’m youronlymonster.”

I pinched her clit, hard, and I listened to her cry in twisted pleasure. I refused to let anyone else give her what she needed.

She wasmybroken bunny.

Chapter 26

Ania

The pain throbbed and blossomed, and I groaned when he released my clit. I gripped his hand, covering the serpent and dagger tattoo, but he chuckled. His hand rubbed along my opening, between the clamps. When I could think again, there was only one thought.

He knew.

Yet it was the only time I never felt the guilt and shame slam into me like a sledgehammer jolting me. The constant reminder that I’m not worthy. The words my Aunt and Uncle drummed into me. They treated me worse than an animal, and after my Aunt found out my Uncle had been abusing me, instead of protecting me, she locked me in the cold, damp wooden shed. I still remember the moss-covered filthy glass I used to look out from. I would get scraps of food tossed in, and when my Aunt left the house or late at night, my Uncle would bring me food in exchange for—

I hissed in pain as Master tugged on the chain between my breasts, stretching my aching flesh out until the pain merged in with the pleasure as he began to rub my clit again.

“Bad, Bunny,” he tsked, the words dripping with faux disappointment as his thumb brushed my lower lip—too gentle for the callous monster I knew him to be. “What did I just tell you?”

“Arghhhh,” I cried out as his fingers left my mouth and lifted my breasts with the nipple clamps.

“Y-You’re my only monster,” I cried out, and Master plunged his fingers inside me.

“Say it again,” he said his voice ringing in my ear.

“You’re my monster,” I whimpered as he curled his fingers inside me.

“Again. Louder,” he growled against my neck.

“You’re my monster,” I shouted before my head tilted back, grateful for my mask as tears coursed down my cheeks.

“Who owns your tears?” he demanded, digging his fingers deep inside of me.

“You do.”

“And who owns you, Bunny?” he asked softly as he began to pull the clamps on my pussy.

“You do, Master,” I sobbed as the clips slipped off, leaving me aching for more, craving the pain.

The pain that made me feel seen and heard. The pain that filled the empty hollowness inside my soul. The pain my Master gave me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tightly, sobbing for the lost child inside of me. For the most hidden broken part of me hiding beneath the mask. The sobs wracked through me, my body shuddering while my trembling hands gripped his shirt and neck.

He hauled me closer, holding me just as tight, gripping my leg roughly with one hand while gently rubbing my back with the other. It felt like years of catharsis being unleashed. I wanted to cry, scream, and fight the world. But instead, I rested my headon Master’s shoulders and continued to sob until I had no more tears left in me—only a raw open wound.

I felt numb all over, inside and out, as Master lifted me. Even though my mask covered my eyes, I kept them closed as tightly as my arms gripping his neck as he carried me upstairs. He juggled between carrying me and trying to open the door, but I held him closer, not wanting him to put me down. I heard him kick it open before he moved in and around to kick it shut again.

My head throbbed, and my heart raced as I approached uncharted territory with my monster. He hadn’t said a word, and my anxiety kicked up a notch. Would he think me weak for breaking down? Or worse, use the information to break me down into nothing? The sickness in my soul might welcome that as my punishment for being weak.

He kicked his shoes off, jolting me out of my thoughts. He placed me on the bed, but I clung to him, and he let me. He silently pushed me along the bed, joining me as he climbed beside me with me hanging from his neck. When we lay down, he dragged me onto his chest, sliding his hand down my back while holding my waist and flinging a leg over mine. I sighed in relief as every part of us touched, and he offered me his comfort in his silence.

We lay in silence, but it took me a while to relax, and when he moved, I put my arm on his chest, reaching up to grip his shirt collar. His hand moved between us, and he removed the nipple clamps that I’d forgotten were still on me. I released his collar to rest my hand on his shoulder, feeling his beard graze the top of my wrist. His hand moved to my neck and rested on my collar before his finger ran to my scar. He untied my mask, loosening the lace before he tugged it off. My face felt hot and wet, but the cool air was soothing. My eyes felt swollen, and I didn't want to think about the state of my nose.

“There is no explosive in your head, Bunny. It is a tracker that is as small as a grain of rice,” he said before he paused. “I couldn't believe that you fell for that, though.”

I lifted my head to glare at him, but instead, I wished he had left my mask on. His blue eyes were sharp as always, but there was a softness in them that I’d never seen before. Almost as if he—I swallowed hard, and my vision blurred until a single fat tear rolled down my cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb.

“Whose tears are these?” he whispered, catching another tear.

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