Page 52 of Lacey's Fight

No way was she going to give up now.

Lifting her head, she met The Master’s gaze head on. Surprise flitted quickly through his dark blue eyes. Did he really think it would be that easy to break her?

“I. Don’t. Break,” she bit out each word. They were true. She might bend a little under the strain, but no way was she going to snap.

“No?” The Master taunted, stepping closer and resting his hand against her lower belly just above the apex of her thighs. “So, I’m wrong when I remember a little girl sobbing and begging me not to touch her. Weeping because her body knew what it wanted even when her mind didn’t?”

“I never wanted you, and you know it,” she growled. Lacey had never told anyone how she would orgasm as The Master raped her. Not her sisters, not the psychiatrist Eagle had made her and her sisters see after they were rescued, and certainly not any of the men she had slept with.

It was her biggest secret.

Her greatest shame.

But ultimately it was The Master who ought to be ashamed. Abducting, torturing, and raping little girls. Lacey knew she hadn’t done anything wrong even if she didn’t know she hadn’t done anything wrong. Biology was what it was, and she shouldn’t be ashamed of responding to physical stimulation the way nature intended.

“If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have come,” he said simply.

At the time, Lacey, with all the limited knowledge a pre-teen had, believed that. Even now on some level she still did. But it was her brain’s job to inject logic and remove emotion. Each time she willingly slept with a man, gave him her body, and allowed herself control of her own pleasure it erased a little of her doubt.

“I believed that when I was younger, but now I know better.”

“You think you’re just like Ivory, like Pearl, you think you’re better than me now,” he sneered. “Do they know? Do they know that you would writhe in pleasure beneath me, practically begging me to give you release?”

“I never begged,” Lacey said softly. As much as she hated it there had been times where she had been tempted to. The Master loved to identify a weakness and then flaunt it, and when he’d realized her body was insanely receptive, he’d loved to taunt her, turning her on, bringing her right to the edge but not letting her tumble over it. It was a special kind of hell to be trapped between, not wanting to orgasm and your body’s natural reaction to being so close to release that you were desperate to find it.

“You wanted to though, didn’t you?” His hand dipped lower until his fingers brushed between her legs. Although he hadn’t stripped her naked, he had pulled her jeans and sleep shorts down enough to bare her to him. “You wanted this. Wanted me to make you feel good. And I always did. You always came for me. Always.” While his fingers swept across her center he leaned in, touched his nose to her neck, and inhaled, then whispered against her ear. “That made you my favorite.”

If that was supposed to be a compliment it failed drastically.

His tongue darted out to caress the shell of her ear, and she shuddered, fighting nausea.

She didn’t want to be his favorite.

Didn’t want to be his anything.

In fact, she wished with every fiber of her being that she had never met him.

But life wasn’t full of wishes it was full of facts, and facts were that she wasn’t going to let this man break her.

Ignoring the pain in her back, Lacey collected her calm, let herself hang limp for a moment as though she had given in, then gathered every drop of strength she possessed.

Just as he’d taught her to do, she used the ropes binding her as leverage and pulled through her body, utilizing every muscle, and slammed her knee up into The Master’s groin.

Hard.

Lacey was rewarded with the most amazing sound. His howl of agony.

Jerking away from her, his hands flew to his crotch, and he staggered around the room, squawking like an unhappy bird.

Served him right.

Wasn’t so fun when someone messed with a part of your body that was supposed to be treated with respect and reverence.

With another howl, he hobbled toward her and backhanded her hard enough that her head snapped to the side and she tasted blood where he’d split her lip.

“You’ll pay for that, Lacey. You think you know how bad it can be, well you don’t. I’ll take you with me, keep you hovering on the edge of orgasm, and not let you come for days, weeks even. Not until you beg me to let you come.”

If he thought she would ever beg no matter what he did to her then he had little faith in his own training methods. He was the one who had trained her how to withstand torture. Didn’t matter what kind it was, the principal was the same, and she could handle sexual torture as well as she could the physical kind.

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