Trigger warnings: Non-consent, abduction, forced imprisonment, drugging, brief mentions of suicide, degradation, forced BDSM, and cruel punishments (including but not limited to starvation and isolation).

Note: This story, including all names and people, is entirely fictional and not based on any real life experiences or events.

If you like this story and want to read more, you can find a list of all my stories here!💜 You can also find a list of the parts of this story whenever they are published.🥰

Everything has a price.

What he said has been running on repeat through my mind ever since I got the pillow. I can’t wrap my head around why he would do that, and why without demanding something from me. The blowjob was for the food, and him groping me was for all my meals since then, but so far, he hasn’t demanded anything for the pillow.

On one hand, that’s a good thing, right? Maybe he genuinely feels bad for me and decided I deserve a pillow after spending so long here. I mean, it must be something like two weeks since I was taken, just going off of how much I’ve slept and that I got my period.

God, it’s so fucked up that I’m being forced to use my period to tell time.

But whatever. It’s been a few days since I got the pillow, and he hasn’t demanded anything in exchange. We’ve entered into another routine, one where he comes a few times a day to feed and grope me. He’s also left me a small, plastic bag for my tampons, which he takes away every day and replaces with a new one.

But once my period ends, I realise a new problem.

I absolutely stink.

The ventilation in the cell is surprisingly good. I mean, it has to be, otherwise I’d die of carbon monoxide poisoning. But even so, I feel like I’m making the entire place stink, and I don’t really understand why my captor hasn’t said anything about it yet.

Does he just not care? Or maybe he likes it. I mean, he’s an absolute psychopath, so that tracks. Or maybe this is another tool designed to break me, another way of reducing me to a caged animal.

Maybe it’s all three.

That day, when he comes in with my breakfast, I muster the courage to ask him. “Hey, I was wondering…” His eyes snap to mine, and I falter a little. He’s absolutely terrifying, despite me just asking for a damn shower. “I feel like I smell,” I continue. “Can I have a shower? Maybe?”

He just stares at me for a while, and I realise that showering is actually a real problem. Because, well, there is none in this cell, so it would require him to take me out of here to find a shower. Maybe he thinks this is a poorly thought-out escape plan?

“I’m not going to run,” I quickly rush out, scared that he’s just going to leave me. “I just…I feel so dirty. I can give you another blowjob, if you want?” I feel horrible offering sexual favours just to clean myself, but what else can I do? It’s not like he’s going to let me shower out of the kindness of his heart.

His head tilts, like he’s deep in thought. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, and I sigh in relief. “I can give you a shower, but I do expect something in return.” Okay, no more sighs of relief from me.

I eye him suspiciously. Does he want to fuck me in exchange for the shower? The most he’s done to me so far is grope me and fuck my mouth. What if he uses this as an opportunity to escalate?

But…what can I do? He’s obviously going to want to do that eventually, anyway, and I do need the shower. Why not just…get it over with?

I nod, and his eyes wrinkle a little.  

And then we go back to feeding and groping, just like every morning. He goes to leave, but before he does, he pulls something out of his bag. I frown, trying to get a good look at it, but then I see it. It’s another small piece of paper, being placed on the floor.

He quickly leaves, and I make my way over to the paper to see what he’s written. It’s, again, in beautiful cursive, but what he wrote is not beautiful at all.

Rule number two: You will keep every part of your body cleanshaven for me. Your body is no longer your own, and so you must keep it trimmed and groomed to the standards of your owner. If you have anything more than a light stubble, you will be punished.

My heart races as I read the words. “My owner”? Is that what he thinks he is? He’s called me his pet several times now, so I guess that makes sense, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing it written like it’s official.

But weirdly, this also gives me some sort of relief. This tracks with his give and take system, and since I asked for a shower and he dropped this right after, I guess this is what he wants from me in exchange. But more than that, he’s saying he wants me cleanshaven all the time, and if this is in exchange for a shower, maybe that means he’s going to let me shower regularly?

I hope so, anyway. I feel disgusting, and I don’t like the idea of having to go weeks without a shower again. I’ll happily shave my legs if he’ll let me keep myself clean.

Later that day, he returns and feeds me, and then extends a hand for me. He lets me put my dress back on, and then I take his hand, still suspicious, and his large, calloused hand wraps around my smaller one as he pulls me over to the door.

There, he pauses, then pulls a blindfold out of his pocket.

I sigh, because I had really hoped he’d let me see outside of here for once, but I guess not. I don’t even know what sort of building this is. This concrete box could be in the middle of the woods for all I know. Maybe it’s at the top of the Empire State Building, or maybe I’m five hundred feet below the ground. Who knows, except for him?

I let him slide the blindfold over my eyes, and then he leans down to my ear, whispering, “If you take that off, I will keep you in here without food for a week. Do you understand, my pet?”

Tears prick at my eyes, but I nod regardless. I don’t want to go through three days of no food again, let alone a week. God, I’d rather die. I think I might actually die if I go that long without food. But beyond all that, I can’t waste this opportunity to learn more about my captivity by risking his wrath.

He opens the door, then slowly leads me outside.

The floor feels like it’s made of stone, just like my cell, but it feels a little colder in here than in there. My captor then opens another door, and when we walk through it, I’m immediately struck by how warm it feels.

The floor is made of wood, and it feels warm on my bare feet. There’s soft music playing somewhere, and honestly, if I had to guess, this feels like a normal house. It feels damn cozy, to be honest, which really freaks me out.

How can this house feel so cozy when the man occupying it is such a monster? How does it feel so warm and welcoming when just down the hall, a woman is being kept in a cage?

I don’t want the answers to those questions.

We walk slowly, probably to make sure I don’t trip and hurt myself, and eventually we make it to another door. He opens it, then lets me inside, and my feet step on cool tiles. When he shuts the door, I hear him lock it, then a key jiggling as though it’s being removed.

This must be the bathroom.

That assumption is confirmed when he gently removes my blindfold. I rapidly blink to adjust to the light, but also to just how…normal this looks.

I don’t know why, but part of me was expecting to find just a bucket in the corner. Maybe a rusty shower if I’m lucky. But no, this bathroom looks like any other bathroom.

The shower in the corner is pristine, and it’s filled with several items, including my favourite brands of shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, shaving cream, and loofahs. It’s fucking weird, how it just looks like he just copied and pasted the shower in my own house.

Aside from that, there are fluffy towels hanging on the wall, a normal looking sink with common amenities, as well as a rug by the door.

Is it weird I’d rather stay in here than in my cell?

He leads me to the shower, then goes to the opposite wall and just…stays there. Does he expect to watch me shower? Is that it?

I take off my dress, gently folding it and placing it on the edge of the sink. Then, when I get into the shower, I draw the curtains, but I quickly stop myself.

I expect him to demand to watch, but he doesn’t say anything. And when I look at him, his eyes tell me nothing. His arms are crossed, and he has one ankle casually slung over the other, like this is all normal to him.

“Can I close the…um…” I hesitate, too scared of saying the wrong thing and risking losing this small privilege. “Do you want to watch?” I ask instead, and he nods once.

I huff a breath, then turn the shower on. The warmth of the water cascading over my body feels fucking orgasmic, honestly. It’s been weeks since I’ve showered, and being able to wash away all the sweat and grime that’s built up over time is something I will never take for granted.

I take my time cleaning my body with the loofah, then begin shampooing my hair. My hair feels so greasy and gross that I nearly cry when I get to wash it. I normally do two rounds of shampoo, but this time, I do three, just to make sure I get everything.

Once that’s done, I put conditioner in the ends of my hair, then I begin shaving.

I normally keep my legs and armpits shaven, and I sometimes shave my arms and my pubic area, but it’s weird doing my entire body…while someone is watching.

But I do it, because I don’t really have another choice, do I? It takes a while, shaving every inch of my body, and I wash my conditioner out in the middle of the process.

Once I’m done shaving, I place the razor away, then turn to face my captor. His eyes go up and down my body for one long minute, and then he points to the sink.

I frown in confusion when I follow his gaze. It’s a normal sink, and it has every item I’d have at home, but what does he want me to do with it?

When I turn to face him again, he says, “Brush your teeth.”

Oh.

That’s almost as big of a relief as being allowed to shower. I’m fucking desperate to clean my teeth, so I immediately jump at the chance and rush to the sink.

I spend several minutes brushing my teeth, doing my best to get rid of everything that’s built up overtime. I also get to see my reflection for the first time in a while.

I look like shit. My hair is a wet mess, and I desperately need to brush it. My eyes look hollow, but I imagine some of that is because of how long he starved me for. I do look thinner, but honestly, I look better than I expected I would.

I can’t decide if that’s a good or a bad thing.

Once I rinse my toothbrush, I put it away, then turn to face my captor again. His eyes go up and down my naked body again, and then he approaches me.

I back away, all the way until I hit the tiled wall behind me, but he follows. He crowds my space, his arms braced on either side of my face as he stares down at me. His hand moves behind his back, and my breath catches, terrified that it might be a knife, but then he produces the same blindfold from earlier.

I let him put it over my eyes, but I don’t dare move. But then, I hear him breathing heavily and feel him moving his hand.

And then he kisses me.

He took off his mask.

That’s all I can think as his soft lips move against mine. He pries my lips apart and plunges his tongue inside me, letting me taste him. He releases a deep groan into my mouth, and I feel his hand wrap around my throat.

I whimper, hating how good it feels to have his soft lips fused with mine and his large hand wrapped around my throat. He keeps taking my mouth like it belongs to him, all while that same thought runs through my mind.

He took off his mask.

It’s killing me inside to not be able to see his face. I wish so badly that I could take off my blindfold and see him, but I know he won’t let me. And if I do it anyway…god, I can’t risk that.

Eventually, he breaks away, breathing heavily. I don’t dare move, terrified of provoking him. But then he kisses me again. And this time, he’s feral with it.

He bites my bottom lip so hard that I whimper in pain. I try to push against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Instead, he grips my wrists in one hand and raises them above my head, immobilising me.

I’m still naked, and dripping wet, so when he places a hand on my waist, I feel it searing my skin. His hard length presses against my abdomen through his jeans, and I swallow with fear at what that thing could do to me.

I hear him unzip himself, and I pale, but he makes no move to push himself inside me. Instead, he pushes me onto my knees.

I groan when my knees hit the hard tile. I tilt my head up, as though to look up at him, but I can’t see his face with the blindfold.

But then I feel him on my lips. I open my mouth to accommodate him, his size just as overwhelming as the first time he fucked my mouth. I struggle to fit, but he doesn’t care. He just pushes himself deeper and deeper until he hits the back of my throat and I gag.

The sound makes him groan with pleasure, and I whimper. It’s obvious he enjoys hurting me but having it so plainly on display fucking kills me.

He grips my hair, keeping me steady while he thrusts into me. I place my hands on his muscular thighs for stability, but it does nothing to help. He’s relentless, using my mouth for his own pleasure while I just have to kneel for him and take it.

After several minutes of this, I hear him moaning my name, right before he comes deep in my throat. Just like the first time, I swallow everything he gives me.

We both breathe heavily for a while, and he zips himself back up. I still can’t see him, so I just kneel on the floor, waiting for him to do something.

Eventually, he grabs my hand and begins leading me to the door. He leaves me there, then walks away, probably to grab my dress. When he returns, he unlocks the door and leads me out of it.

We walk in silence back to my cell, and when we make it there, he finally takes my blindfold off. His mask is back on, and I hate the disappointment that floods my system.

He hands me a new dress, again one of my oversized t shirt dresses, which I quickly throw on, then he gives me a small hairbrush. I take it, muttering a small “Thank you” as I do. It’s so little, yet it gives me so much happiness and relief to be able to brush my own hair.

And then he leaves, shutting the door behind him. I go to the corner, the one I usually sit in, and I spend some time brushing my hair. I don’t have a mirror in here, so I just have to go by feel, but I think I do a good job at it, and in any case, it feels good to do my hair in some way.

It’s weird how quickly I’ve come to appreciate these small things, like brushing my hair or taking a shower. But that’s my new world, the one he’s put together for me.

And I mean, god damn, this must’ve cost a fortune to create, and all for me? It feels…weird.

Don’t get me wrong, I hate it. I absolutely despise being here. But it’s clear he’s been watching me for some time, so intimately that he knows what tampons I like and what I use in the shower. He clearly cares, at least a little bit, about my comfort, even if he uses the lack of it as a punishment.

It’s small, but it’s something. If nothing else, I should try to use that small bit of compassion to manipulate him. Maybe one day he’ll trust me enough to go outside without a blindfold, and I can use that chance to run.

I spend hours thinking about different escape scenarios like that, just hoping I can make it out someday. I have to, because I just can’t fucking live here much longer.

With a sigh, I place my head on the soft pillow he gave me, my damp hair a strange comfort as it fans out behind me. And that night, I fall asleep faster than I ever have before.

Thank you so much for reading!💜