Page 34 of Cursed
“I love your fight,” I whisper against her ear. Her body is warm against mine. “But we both know where this ends.”
She kicks backward, her heel connecting with my shin. I grunt but don’t loosen my grip. Instead, I lift her, her back against my chest, her feet kicking uselessly in the air.
“Put me DOWN!”
I carry her struggling form to the chair, her body writhing against mine. She’s strong—stronger than I expected—and the resistance only makes my dick harder. This isn’t the passive submission of fantasy; this is raw, real fight.
When I reach the platform, I spin her around, forcing her backward toward the chair. She braces her legs, pushing against me, her hands striking at my chest, my face, anywhere she can reach.
“I hate you,” she hisses.
I capture both her wrists in one hand, using my superior strength and weight to force her down into the chair. Her bodybucks against the restraints as I secure one wrist, then the other, the cuffs automatically tightening to her measurements.
Sadie’s eyes burn with fury as I secure her to the chair. The restraints analyze her pulse, her body temperature, learning what makes her tick.
“You’re sick,” she spits as I finish strapping her ankles. “You’re no better than?—”
I press my finger against her lips, silencing her. “Than the man who hurt you before?” I complete her thought. “I’m nothing like him, little butterfly. I’ve read your police report. I know what he did to you.”
Her face pales. “You had no right?—”
“I had every right,” I counter, running my finger along her jawline. “How else could I understand what you need?”
“Need?” She jerks her head away. “I need you to let me go!”
I smile. This beautiful, broken creature doesn’t understand what I’m offering.
“What you need is healing,” I declare, leaning close enough that my breath stirs the hair by her ear. “And I’m going to heal you, Sadie. I’m going to erase what that pathetic excuse for a man did to you.”
Her breath catches. I can see the confusion in her eyes, the unwilling interest.
“Your body responds to me because it knows what your mind refuses to accept,” I continue, trailing my fingers down her neck to the hollow of her throat. “That assault left you broken, but I can fix you. I’ll show you how a real man treats his woman.”
I cup her face, forcing her to look me in the eye. “He took your power. I’m going to give it back to you by showing you how to surrender properly. By teaching you that pleasure and pain can coexist without shame.”
I can see the war in her eyes—fear fighting against curiosity, rage against need.
“You don’t belong to him anymore,” I urge. “You belong to me now. And I take care of what’s mine.”
Sadie thrashes against the restraints at my declaration. “You’re insane!”
I finish securing the final strap across her midsection, ignoring the stream of profanity pouring from her lips. “You’re only making this more difficult for yourself,” I tell her, stroking a finger down her cheek as the system beeps, confirming complete biometric calibration. “The restraints adapt to resistance. The more you fight, the tighter they’ll become.”
As if to demonstrate my point, the cuffs around her wrists pulse once, adjusting their pressure. Sadie’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she falls deathly still.
I move to the control panel embedded in the wall, my fingers dancing across the touchscreen. The blank cream walls shimmer, then transform into a starfield—deep space stretching infinitely around us. The floor beneath us becomes transparent, creating the illusion of floating. Sadie gasps despite herself.
“Your pupils dilated,” I observe, watching the biometric readings. “You find beauty in the cosmos. Interesting.”
I adjust another setting, and the scent in the room shifts to a blend of vanilla undertones with hints of amber and sandalwood. The chair hums, vibrations beginning at such a low frequency they’re barely perceptible.
“The human body is fascinating,” I say, circling back to her. “Did you know that certain frequencies can stimulate nerve endings without you even consciously feeling them? Your body is responding already.”
I reach for a small remote and press a button. The restraints around Sadie’s wrists and ankles warm slightly, the embedded sensors beginning to pulse in rhythm with her heartbeat.
“Stop this,” she demands.
“We’ve barely begun,” I state. “Your treatment requires complete sensory recalibration. Your body will learn new responses, overwriting the trauma.”
