Page 65 of His Captive

She begs, and she pleads for me not to take her there, but I pay her no attention. She sealed her fate when she tried to run, and now she’s about to get a taste of the consequences.

I take her to the back of the room and drop her to her feet. Before lifting the collar from the floor.

“Please Ethan.” She shakes her head weakly, breathless from her struggling.

For a moment I think I see the start of a tear. And silently, I beg for its release. I’ve never seen my pretty puppet cry, though I’ve imagined it enough times, how her eyes would look glistening with tears, the tears that I’m prepared to force from her just so I can taste them on my tongue. The evidence that I’m in her head the same way she’s in mine. I can let her stay there if she’s broken too.

But like all the times before, Lysetta’s tears don’t fucking come.

I slip the collar around her neck and click it shut. Her eyes shut me out, and she swallows deeply. When I take her bottom lip between my teeth, I bite, hard enough that the metallic taste of her blood to seep between my lips and soak onto my tongue.

Her shocked gasp sucks the air from my mouth and I pull back. Smearing the small trace of blood that is left, across her bottom lip then onto her chin with my thumb. And while her body forges together its frightened little pants, I take her throat.

She looks back at me the way she should have from the start.

Frightened, vulnerable and so beautifully breakable.

“That was a really stupid thing to do,” I tell her, feeling the lump of fear she swallows slither down her throat and pass through the arch of my hand.

Her chest beats wildly, as if her heart wants to escape, and I’m not sure if it’s out of thrill or terror.

I need to get her out of her damp clothes, she’ll get sick if I don’t. But I can’t resist leaning into her neck, and sliding my tongue along the heavily pulsing vein that reaches up just behind her ear. Causing her to whimper.

“Ask me Lysa...” I whisper. “Ask me to show you who you belong to.”

Her head falls backward, naturally arching her tits forward. Her taut nipples pressing tight against me through the wet fabric between us.

“Ethan,” she breathes. She’s conflicted, because she wants this, she wants it despite knowing that she shouldn’t.

I soothe a tense hand over her neck, cupping her chin and squeeze her cheeks together.

“Ask me,” I tell her again.

She doesn’t want to say it, isn’t ready to admit to herself, that her body has already let her down. Her hips rotate ever so slightly, grinding against me readily. Desperate to be shown.

I press my forehead hard into hers and force her head into the wall behind her. Both my hands working to rip apart her shirt, and push it off her shoulders. Next, I hook my fingers inside the front of her jeans, busting them open. They cling to her skin where they’re so damp, but I force them down until they fall heavy at her feet. I trail my eyes between us, taking in the beautiful chilled body that belongs to me. Mine.

Her underwear sticks tight to her skin. Shimmering wet and prickling with goose bumps. She’s so painfully stunning like this.

“ASK,” I warn her, one last time before the thin strain of my self-control snaps completely.

She shakes her head defiantly, causing my fist to clench, and smash into the wall behind her head.

It makes her jump, and she closes her eyes to shield herself from me. She’s finally seeing the monster, witnessing a brutal truth unfold in front of her.

“You were going to leave me.” My voice sounds vulnerable. I hate it. But it’s the truth, ever since she’s walked through my door, I’ve been just that.

Vulnerable.

I may have held her under my control, but she’s been holding me right back.

And the thought of her getting away from me, of not having her here with me destroys me.

Her eyes open and scan my face. She’s thinking, searching for something, that I wish was there for her. I always know when she’s thinking. She has a tell. Her tongue sits ever so slightly on the left side, poking between her lips, while two tiny lines form between her eyebrows.

“Okay, Ethan.” Her eyes hold mine with new found confidence, that fearless indestructible glint back inside them, and she almost sounds daring as she whispers...

“Show me.”

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