He released my arms and stood, looking down at me.

I tested the bonds, knowing they’d hold but needing to anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the clanking sound of it, of metal on metal, of my louder scream, of the desperation in it as he took one ankle and stretched it toward one corner of the bed and bound it. His face remained empty of expression as he walked casually to the other side, and I found myself mumbling, muttering pleas as he stretched the other leg out and bound me so I lay spread eagle, exposed, at his mercy.

He stood back and looked down at me, first at my face, my eyes, then down over my breasts and belly and to my sex. There his gaze hovered and when he moved to climb between my legs, I screamed and I begged. I begged for him not to rape me. I begged for my life. I begged for mercy. And he just watched me, watched it, and placed his hands on my inner thighs, softly trailing fingertips up and up until tears streamed down my face. His fingers settled on either side of my pussy and spread me open.

“Please. Please don’t.”

He stopped then, and his gaze met mine. I thought he’d say something, but he didn’t. He just watched me for a long time, as if he wanted me to know he held all the power. That he owned me. That he could do whatever he wanted to do to me. And then he bent his head and licked my pussy. He licked its length slowly and purposefully while his eyes remained locked on mine and my breath caught in my throat. He did it again, taking his time, tasting every inch of me, teasing the hard nub of my clit until I couldn’t take anymore, until I felt my back arching, my body moving without my brain’s permission. I couldn’t look into his eyes because I’d see my shame there, see how my body yielded so quickly, gave itself so easily to this man, my captor. My jailor. My keeper. My tormentor.

I squeezed my eyes shut and lay there while he sucked on my clit and died a little when I heard the moan that came out of my mouth as he teased and taunted and tasted and made me gush, made me come so hard I thought I’d break apart. And maybe I did, maybe, in a way, I did.

He didn’t speak when it was over, and I opened my eyes to find his locked on mine as he rose from the bed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. We stayed like that for a long time until finally, I blinked, turning away, humiliated, and he walked back out the door and locked it behind him.