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.🥰

Five days. That’s how long he keeps me in the cell without food or human contact.

All I get is one water bottle a day, and that’s it.

I’m still on my period, but he’s obviously not giving me anything for it. On top of that, I’ve had to literally piss on the floor, which is the most humiliating thing I’ve ever done. I’ve tried to contain it to one area as far away from where I sleep as I can, but there’s barely any space to move with the chain keeping me locked to the wall. Having to sleep on the floor with my own urine puddle a short distance away is easily the worst punishment I’ve experienced here. It’s almost enough to make me forget about how fucking hungry I am.

And I am starving. The longest time before was just over three days if I remember right, but that feels like nothing compared to five whole days. It’s the harshest treatment I’ve been under since I was put here and it’s killing me. I don’t know how long he’s keeping me here for, but if it’s for much longer, I might genuinely just drop dead.

That’s why, when on the last day of my period and my fifth day here, I sob with relief at the sight of my captor crouched before my sleeping form.

“Master,” I whimper, the word slipping from my lips before I can stop it, but I just don’t care. I’m just fucking relieved that my punishment is over and that he’s here.

He tilts his head, examining me, and it’s only now that I notice the things he’s brought inside.

Another water bottle, a rag, a piece of paper, a sandwich wrapped in foil, and a bucket with soapy water and a sponge contained within.

That’s…new.

I frown, but before I can ask any questions, Master drops the piece of paper in front of me. I hesitantly pick it up, and by this point, I’m not surprised by the rule written in beautiful cursive.

Rule number five: You will not attempt to harm yourself or your Master, nor will you attempt to escape. To do so will incur the harshest punishment possible.

Is it weird that the words just bring me a strange comfort? Like, obviously I knew I would be harshly punished for my attempted escape, so just seeing it as an official rule doesn’t faze me. But knowing that it can’t possibly get any worse than this is weirdly comforting.

I nod my understanding, and my Master smiles at me, just a little. The small piece of affection warms my heart, despite how much I still wish it didn’t. But after being deprived of his affection for days at a time, even a damn smile makes me feel good.

Next, he unwraps the sandwich, making my stomach painfully knot and growl. It’s a chicken sandwich, and after five days of no food, I desperately want it.

Still, I know better than to just lunge for it. So, instead, I gently ask, “Can I please have that, Master?”

He nods, then brings one corner of the sandwich to my lips. “Eat slowly,” he instructs, and I obey. Logically, I know that eating too fast will make me sick, but it still takes considerable effort to chew and swallow slowly.

It feels orgasmic to taste that damn sandwich, and when I swallow, the ache in my stomach eases a little.

He keeps feeding me until I swallow the last bite, and then I muster the courage to ask what I’ve been wondering since I saw him. “Is my punishment over, Master?” My voice is so small and so weak, but I don’t even feel pathetic or ashamed for it anymore.

He doesn’t answer as he crumples the foil into a ball. “Master?” I ask, a little more desperate. It must be over by now, right?

“Stand up,” he orders, and I try my best to obey, but after days of no food, it takes every scrap of energy I have.

Once I’m up, my Master scoots closer with the bucket, and I realise what he’s doing. He dips the sponge into the soapy water, and then slowly begins cleaning my skin.

He spends minutes cleaning every inch of me, the soapy water dripping beneath me and gathering in a small puddle. Ironically, it’s probably washing away the urine, which is a nice bonus.

I stir a little as he brings the sponge between my legs, but he doesn’t stay long. He’s not doing this to pleasure me, he’s doing this to keep me clean.

I would like to say I hate the way the physical contact feels good, but by this point, I can’t even pretend. It feels amazing to have him touch me in any way, and having him clean me like this is just…nice.

When he’s done, he grabs a rag and begins drying me off, then wipes the floor. He kneels before me, his hands gripping my ass, and he kisses my belly, the gentle gesture giving me so much warmth and pleasure.

He gently tugs me down, indicating that he wants me to sit, so I do. We’re so close I could touch him if I just leaned a little closer, but I don’t have to, because he brings his palm to my cheek.

He rubs it, in such an achingly soft gesture that I can’t help but lean into it. Getting even a taste of human contact, a reminder of how we used to be before my failed escape attempt, is like a shot to the heart. I love the way his palm feels against my cheek, and knowing my punishment is over makes me so desperate and happy for his touch.

But then he pulls away. He leaves the water bottle on the floor but dumps the rag and the sponge into the bucket. Then he begins carrying it out.

“Wait!” I yell out, crawling after him. The chain becomes taut, making me wince in pain at how the chain pinches my skin, but he doesn’t even glance back. “Master, please!” I beg. “I’m sorry! Please don’t go!”

He places his thumb on the fingerprint scanner, completely ignoring me as I beg and scream for him to come back, that I’m sorry and that I won’t disobey him again.

But he just calmly leaves the room, leaving me chained to the wall.

Sobs tear from my throat at the sound of the door locking. I sit back down in the corner, bringing my knees to my chest as I cry.

Why the fuck didn’t he take me out? Why did he feed me if he’s just going to keep me here even longer? Haven’t I been punished enough? I don’t think I deserve to be here for so many days.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter what I think. He doesn’t give a shit about me, at least not while I’m being punished. So I just have to stay here, starving and cold and isolated.

Five more days pass.

I beg and beg the camera for forgiveness every day, but my Master never comes to get me. I clutch my stomach tightly as I go to sleep every night, yet it never eases the pain. I try to stay awake so I’ll catch him when he brings in water, but he just waits until he’s sure I’m asleep.

This punishment is the worst one in many ways. Being isolated and starved for ten whole days is more than I thought I’d ever be able to go through, yet it’s not even the worst part.

I hate myself for this, but I miss my captor. I miss his gentle touches and his sweet words. I miss the way he’d feed me and take care of me.

I know I’ve lost my mind, missing him like I do, but I’m just too tired to feel shame over missing him. I don’t love or care for him, but I miss being treated well. It’s such a sharp, horrific contrast to the stone walls and chain wrapped around my ankle.

But the actual worst part? I realise that it doesn’t even matter that I’m chained to the stone wall of my cell. It doesn’t even matter that I have to pee on the floor or that he’s starving me. Because even if he’d left me in the other cell with enough food to last ten days, it would’ve still felt like a punishment.

Because I just miss my Master, and being away from him like this is the worst punishment of all.

I feel pathetic for missing the man who put me in this position, but how can’t I? When his kindness shows, it seems like he genuinely cares for me. So when he’s cruel to me, how can’t I miss the times when he’s kind?

Days pass of this, where all I feel is starved for affection and for food. Everything hurts, and I’m as desperate for death as I am for freedom.

But I’m desperate to see my Master again, most of all.

So, when he comes in on the tenth day, I barely feel the hunger anymore. All I feel is relief that I get to see him, and an immense hope that he’ll forgive me and put me back in the other cell.

He crouches before me, and I panic a little when I see he’s not carrying any food. The sandwich from five days ago was enough to keep me from starving to death, so what does it mean that he hasn’t brough me any food?

He comes so close to my body, leaned against the wall with my knees to my chest. I hesitantly scoot closer, not because I’m scared of getting closer to him but because I want nothing more than to be closer to him, and I’m scared I’ll push him away.

Once I’m sitting a little closer, he grips my chin. I gasp at the firm grip, pulling me a little closer to his terrifying face. “Have you learned your lesson?” he asks.

“Yes, Master,” I mutter.

“Apologise.”

I swallow. “I’m…I’m sorry, Master. I shouldn’t have tried to harm you. It won’t happen again, I promise.” My voice, still weak and barely audible, quivers on the last few words. It doesn’t really phase me to humiliate myself for him, but that doesn’t mean I’m able to keep my voice stable.

“There you go,” he says, and despite his words barely containing a hint of praise, they still warm my blood. “Do you want to go back to our room?”

I nod. “Please, Master.”

He smirks. “Not until I’m convinced you’re sorry, little girl.”

“Please,” I beg, tears welling in my eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

He stands, gently petting me. “Be a good girl and suck me clean, and I’ll let you go back to our room.

The request doesn’t even bother me. I nod. “Okay, I can do that.”

He smiles proudly, then unzips his jeans. He pulls his jeans and boxers down, revealing his already hard cock. I don’t wait for long, bringing him into my mouth with a moan.

It feels way better than it should to have him in my mouth, but I’ve missed him and the way he tastes. My stomach is eating itself, and it hurts like hell, but I do my best to ignore it, which is surprisingly easy.

I focus on my Master’s pleasure, sucking and licking him like I’m starved for it. And I am. I want nothing more than to feel him come down my throat, which is what I do my best to drive him towards.

I’m surprised when he doesn’t take control to fuck my mouth. He seems eager for it, but I guess the point of this is that I beg him for forgiveness by swallowing his cock myself.

Everything hurts, but I barely feel it anymore. All I can feel is the way his cock swells inside me, twitching whenever I do things with my tongue.

“That’s it,” he mutters. “Show me how fucking good my girl can be.”

The encouragement makes me moan. I’m so fucking wet, despite how much I’m starving, but I keep my hands to myself.

But the feel of his smooth skin, covering that hard thickness of him, makes it so hard not to touch myself. How is it that I can be starving in a stone cell yet still be turned on to a ridiculous degree?

I don’t even know anymore, nor do I care. All I care about is my Master’s pleasure, desperate to make him forgive me. But it’s not even just about going back to our room. Part of me wants him to forgive me just for forgiveness’s sake, just because I feel horrible over what I did.

So, despite the pit in my stomach, I give my Master the best blowjob possible. I lick a slow path up the seam on the underside of him. He groans as I do, making me smile around him as I suck his head into my mouth. I use my tongue to lick away that delicious moisture at the tip of him, and the guttural sound that escapes him is the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard.

I spend minutes with just his head in my mouth. I suck it, kiss it, use my tongue to swirl around the sensitive ridge. I even stick my tongue under his foreskin, which I quickly learn is something that makes him shake more than anything else I do.

“Swallow me,” he orders after a while. “Now.”

The stern command makes shivers of fear flood my veins. I hurriedly take him into my mouth, plunging him inside so fast that I gag, but all I want is to please him. I don’t want to leave him disappointed, regardless of if he forgives me or not.

And so I keep him in my throat, as deep as I can. He groans at the way my throat constricts around him, but I’m sputtering and barely able to breathe. Yet despite him not gripping my head to keep me in place, I somehow manage to keep myself in place on my own.

I pull back, just a little, and look up into his deep brown eyes. They wrinkle on a small smile, and he nods, silently telling me I don’t need to keep him in my throat.

So, I begin thrusting up and down. Slowly at first, making sure to use my tongue with each stroke up and down his thick length. I feel every ridge of him, every vein and every inch of his smooth skin, wrapped around his impossibly hard arousal. I can’t get enough of the feel of him in my mouth, and I think might just be a little bit crazy for missing his cock in my mouth as much as I missed food.

I discard the thought, instead doing my best to focus on my Master’s pleasure, which I can tell is reaching its peak soon.

After several more minutes of this, my jaw aching as much as my stomach, he finally finishes. He plunges all the way inside me, forcing me to swallow his release as he comes down my throat, and I do, eagerly and happily swallowing every single drop of him.

“There’s my good little girl,” he praises, pulling out.

I smile at him is he zips himself back up. “Thank you, Master.”

He finally releases me from the chain, and a desperate whimper escapes me as he does. He then picks me up and carries me out of the cell, not even bothering to blindfold me, but I’m too tired to question him or even look at where we’re going.

Instead, I bury my face in his chest as he carries me back to the other cell. He gently places me down on the bed, then pulls out a container of chicken salad.

He spends a while feeding me, making sure I eat, chew, and swallow slowly, and I eagerly obey his every command. He doesn’t touch me, but that’s fine. I just eat the food, and when we’re done, I feel a lot better.

Master then brings me into the shower, and a happy sigh leaves my lips at the feel of the warm water running down my body. I lean against his chest for a few, blissful moments, letting the warm water and his soothing heartbeat lull me into a sense of comfort.

He spends a while cleaning me, lathering me up and rinsing me clean twice before cleaning my hair. It feels way better than it should, honestly, to have him treat me with kindness again. It’s not even that I feel guilty for enjoying it because he kidnapped me. It’s that I feel like I still don’t deserve this.

I tried to kill him. I had the knife inches from his chest, and now he’s cleaning my skin and muttering words of praise into my ear?

I…fuck, I just can’t accept his kind, soft touches.

I whimper when his lips touch my forehead in a soft kiss, and it breaks me. “I’m so sorry, Master,” I sob, resting my forehead against his shoulder. “God, I’m sorry…”

“Shh,” he says, and I sniff, more tears rolling down my cheeks like waterfalls. “I forgive you, Hannah.”

“Don’t…” I trail off, unaware what I want him to stop doing and why.

He wraps me in a hug, his lips moving down to my ear. “Shh, my pet. Your punishment is over. You’re okay, I promise.” I try to shake my head, but he tightens his grip in response. “Come to bed with me, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay? I promise.”

Despite how horrible I feel, I nod, obeying him.

“Good girl,” he whispers, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek.

When we go to bed, he locks my ankle to the bed, but it feels comforting. Compared to the chain, the leather cuff is like a comforting caress, and when I pull on it, all I feel is safe, knowing that I’m stuck in here with him.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. All I know is that I don’t think I want to be fixed anymore.

He pulls me against his bare chest, and I lean into him, letting the comforting sound of his heartbeat ground me and calm me down.

I shouldn’t feel happy that I’m back here. I’m still a prisoner, though now, my cage is decorated and filled with books. But that doesn’t change that it’s a cage, and I shouldn’t feel happy or good that I’m in here.

But that doesn’t matter, and I’m too tired to care anyway. So, when my Master whispers a “Goodnight, my pet” into my ear, I fall asleep on his chest, somehow feeling safer and happier than I have in a while.

Thank you so much for reading!💜