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.🥰

The next day, when my period still hasn’t arrived, I realise I just can’t ignore the subject anymore. I spend the entire day working up the courage to ask him, and when he feeds me dinner, I finally ask, “Can we talk about something?”

He nods, his hand trailing a little higher up my leg. We’re sitting in bed while he feeds me, and even now, I still have to let him touch me during it.

“What will you do if…” I stutter, briefly losing my nerve.

“Tell me, Hannah,” he commands, watching as I chew and swallow the piece of food he puts in my mouth.

I take a breath. “What happens if I get pregnant?”

He doesn’t look surprised by my question. His face remains a cool calm as he says, “That’s not going to happen, my pet.”

“Why not?” I ask, my heart stuttering when he raises an eyebrow. “Master,” I add.

“I’ve taken care of it,” he says, and I frown in confusion. “If you must know, I’ve put your birth control in your food.”

I choke on the piece of food in my throat, suddenly feeling like I can taste the birth control in there. He fucking spiked my food with contraceptives? What the actual fuck?

He must see the question plastered all over my face, because he says, “You’re my pet, Hannah. I own you. It’s my job to take care of you.”

Well then, that makes it all okay I guess.

I try my best to push away the discomfort of this revelation. It’s useless to fight him on it anyway. But I still wonder… “How are you getting it? I only had a little bit before.” The words “before you kidnapped me” go unspoken, though I know we both hear them.

“I have ways of getting it. You don’t need to worry about that, little Hannah.”

I can’t stop the bile that rises in my throat at his condescending tone, like he’s speaking to a child who’s pestering him with too many dumb questions.

I push it down with considerable effort and ask, “How?” unable to help myself.

He gives a barely perceptible smirk. “You don’t need to worry about it, baby. All you need to be concerned with is being a good little girl and eating every day so you’re ready to let me come inside you.”

My cheeks heat, though I don’t know if it’s with rage, fear, or the small, horrible amount of arousal I feel low in my gut. “Yes, Master,” I say demurely, and he grins wide.

There’s another thought, though. One that concerns me, but that I don’t dare bring up. He’s left me starving before, and I don’t doubt he’d hesitate if I disobey again. What does he do then? Does he dissolve the pills in my water, or does he just not bother, and he uses the subsequent hormone imbalance as another part of my punishment?

It'd make sense, but the thought still worries me.

He feeds me the last bit of my dinner in silence, but by the end, his hand is cupping me between my legs. He pushes a finger inside, and shame heats my cheeks when I feel that I’m wet.

His, frankly, scary face comes closer to mine, and his free hand moves to wrap around my throat, and I realise where this is going. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I let him grope around the inside of my mouth.

I say let him like I have a choice in this, but I have to hold onto those phrases and ways of thinking in order to not lose more of my sanity and self-worth.

He withdraws after a while, and with his lips still just an inch from mine, he mutters, “Bend over on the bed, baby.”

He lets me go, and I obey, getting onto all fours on the bed. The mattress dips with his weight as he gets up behind me. I’m already naked, but he’s still dressed, and when I feel his hard length beneath his jeans rub against my ass, I get flutters in my stomach.

He leans over me, his hand gripping my neck to push me down until my face is stuffed into the mattress. His mouth comes to my ear, muttering, “Hands behind your back, little girl.”

I do as I’m told, knowing it’s useless to resist. He pulls some handcuffs from his back pocket, then fastens them around my wrists, so tight that I wince with pain.

I take a few deep breaths, centring myself, but I get interrupted by my captor gripping my hair. He twists it into his fist, pulling so tight that I can’t stop myself from screaming, but the sound only makes him press harder against my ass.

He slaps it with his free hand, then gets busy unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. Once his cock is freed, he slowly pushes it into me.

Just like the first time, it takes me a few moments and a few deep breaths to get used to the feel of him inside me, the way he stretches me. It hurts like hell, especially when he doesn’t bother getting me ready first.

He bottoms out, forcing me to feel every thick inch of him. I groan in pain, from the feel of him inside me, the handcuffs, and the tight, possessive grip he has on my hair.

“There you go,” he says, voice low and intense. “You take me so fucking well.”

“Yes, Master,” I breathe out, desperately hoping the name will make him have some mercy on me.

It does, at least if you consider him beginning to slowly thrust in and out of me as mercy. He releases a masculine moan, so primal and unashamed that I can’t stop the shivers that run up the length of my spine.

He snakes his free hand down to where we’re joined, and he begins rubbing my clit with slow, yet intense strokes. I stir, the sensations in my lower half overwhelming and too intense for me to escape from.

His thrusts quicken just a degree, a steady rhythm forming. His thumb and index fingers pinch my clit between them, just this side of painful, and he groans at my shriek of surprise.

“This tight little cunt is all mine,” he says, pulling my hair just enough to send searing pain through my body. “Every inch of your perfect body belongs to me, doesn’t it, princess?”

The new petname surprises me, but I know better than to delay my reply for too long. “Yes,” I gasp. “Yes it does, Master.” I tell him exactly what he wants to hear, and he groans his approval despite the hollowness of my words.

“Good girl,” he praises, thrusts quickening. “I can do whatever the fuck I want to you. Remember that, baby.” He pushes all the way into me, as though proving his point. “And all you can do is to fucking take it.” Each word is an aggressive stab at my heart, another strike of a hammer against the chisel chipping away my remaining resolve. “You’re fucking mine.”

A moan escapes me at his final word, but to my own ears, it sounds pained and reluctant. I can only hope it sounds like a moan of pleasure to him.

His fingers rub faster circles, and I desperately chase the climax building, though I don’t know if that’s because I want to get this over with or because I want to feel that climax crash over me. I’m too lost in a hazy, grotesque combination of pain and pleasure to really care.

“You’re going to be a good little girl for me and come all over my cock as I take you, you got it?”

“Yes, Master,” I gasp out, and his thrusts turn harder, deeper.

It doesn’t take much longer before the climax finds me. I cry out, the pain of his grip in my hair and the pleasure in my lower half making me shriek into the mattress. He keeps moving through the entire thing, and at the tail-end of my orgasm, he too comes deep inside me.

He groans as he does, plunging into me and leaning his chest over my back. His mouth comes down to my neck, and I feel his deep, heavy breaths against the sensitive skin. He bites me, just because he can, earning another shriek from me.

We both breathe heavily, and I wait patiently for him to pull out, which he does after a minute. He repeats the same routine he did before, removing any restraints and leading me to the bathroom to clean my body in the shower. He spends an achingly long while scrubbing my skin until it’s clean. Once satisfied, he dries us both off and leads me to bed.

He locks my ankle to the bed, then pulls me into his chest, his thick arm draping over my shoulders. We fall asleep like that, entangled in each other.

I get my period the next day, and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Having physical proof that I’m not pregnant is like a shot of relief straight to my veins.

The bathroom is stocked with tampons, still the same kind I use, so that’s no problem. And when I tell my captor I got my period, he literally brings me chocolate.

Why is he being…nice to me?

I mean, it must be since I’m behaving. Maybe he always wanted to treat me nice but had to break down my resistance first, or maybe this is another reward designed to keep me from disobeying. And I mean, I do as I’m told, but not because I want to. I really, really do wish I could tell him to shove it when he sits down and puts my head in his lap, softly petting my hair like I’m, well, his pet, like he says.

But just like with the sex, there’s a strange comfort knowing that I can’t say no. If I was doing this of my own free will, asking the devil himself to pet me while I’m on my period, I might feel bad about it. But since he’s not leaving me any choice, there’s little guilt. He’ll force me anyway, so I might as well enjoy it, right?

And it is comforting, despite how much I wish it wasn’t. Getting some kindness for him and being pet in his lap feels good, but it still feels degrading. He’s not acting like I’m his girlfriend. He’s acting like I’m his pet.

I assume it’s intentional that he’s degrading and comforting me at the same time. I still feel hints of shame, despite telling myself that I shouldn’t. I try my best to push away the shame of it, of enjoying the soft degradation, and try to get lost in the comforting feel of his palm on my cheek.

He keeps me there for so long that I feel myself drifting off several times. Just like everything else in this hell, it feels like a defeat that I’m comfortable enough in his lap to fall asleep.

So I keep myself awake, because I’m stubborn and petty like that.

Eventually, after what feels like just under half an hour, he gently eases me off his lap. I immediately feel cold without the feel of his jeans on one cheek and his palm on the other, a feeling I chastise myself for having.

I should feel relieved. Not cold.

I expect him to leave, now that he’s done his daily feeding and destruction of my sanity, but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised when he doesn’t. Instead, he makes me swallow his cock, just to remind me of my place beneath him.

Because with every piece of comfort he gives me, it’s always entwined with pain, like a snake choking its victim until it can’t breathe anymore.

My period ends a few days later, and I feel surprised when my immediate reaction isn’t dread. My captor hasn’t had sex with me while I was on my period and I wish I knew why. Was it for my sake? Or is he scared of blood?

He doesn’t seem the type to be scared of anything, to be honest, let alone having sex with a woman on her period. It doesn’t make sense, but neither does the first option, that he didn’t want to cause me discomfort while I was on my period. It’s not like my cramps are even that bad, honestly, but…I don’t know. There’s still so much I don’t know about him, even now, and it feels dangerous to assume anything about him.

Especially his kindness.

If I assume he’s doing something to be nice to me, he’ll just deliberately tear down that assumption with sadistic cruelty. Better to just assume the worst. My “Master” has shown himself to be a cruel devil at heart, after all.

I make sure to keep track of the next week, using the pen and notepad to write down the weekday and date every day. I’m still acutely aware that it could be longer since I was taken, but I’m trying to live in blissful ignorance that I’m certain that this is the date. If I’m wrong, I’ll allow myself to freak out, but I’ll assume I’m not for now.

On Wednesday, which is two months and twelve days since I was taken, my captor surprises me by waking me up with a blindfold in his hand. The sky is still a dull blue, barely hints of daylight rather than a sunny day.

I make sure to write the day on the notepad, something my captor softly smiles at, and then I toss on the cute sundress he picks out for me. Finally, I let him put the blindfold over my eyes, wordlessly following him out the door.

I haven’t been out here since he led me to my new cell, so for a moment, I fear he’s throwing me back in my old cell. But he doesn’t lead me down that path, instead walking somewhere I don’t recognise.

We stop, and a moment later, I hear a sliding door opening. Soft fingers grab my arm, gently leading me out – and then I feel it.

Air. Cold, crisp morning air like the mornings at my childhood home. The fresh smell of wet grass and the feel of a wet patio beneath my bare feet bring tears to my eyes. And when I hear birds singing, I know there’s no stopping my tears from soaking the blindfold.

My captor removes it the next moment, and I’m awestruck by the sight before me.

The sun rises, far off in the horizon, casting my face in a soft, orange glow. The house sits on a huge property, with fields extending for miles in either direction, utterly isolated. The patio is large, littered with various garden furniture, all surrounded by a railing that opens in the middle, stairs descending to the open field below.

Right in front of me.

Yet despite that, thoughts of running don’t even occur to me at first. I could tell myself that it’s because I know he’d catch me, that there’d be no point. But that’s not it.

Because a realisation dawns on me, as I watch the sun rising far off in the horizon until it blinds me. My captor didn’t have to do this. I was content with my room and the uneasy arrangement we had. He didn’t have to bring me here, but he did, and I think it was an act of kindness with no catch.

And I think, as a broad grin breaks out across my face, that for the first time in two months and twelve days, I am truly, ridiculously happy.

Thank you so much for reading!💜 I hope you enjoyed it!