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.🥰

I wake up starving, which isn’t surprising, but what is surprising is my Master placing a tray of breakfast food on the bed. It contains eggs and bacon, toast, and even some fruit.

My heart warms at the sight of it, but even though I’m happy at the sight of the food, I can’t forget how cruelly he treated me these past ten days. Leaving me isolated and alone, starving and peeing on the floor…It makes it hard to appreciate a kind gesture.

But I’m still hungry, so when he starts by feeding me a piece of bacon, I take a bite without complaint. But apparently, my Master also knows it’s impossible to just go back to normal so fast, because he says, “We need to talk, Hannah.”

I swallow the bacon, suddenly nervous. Who starts a conversation like that? I mean, yeah, we do need to talk, and he told me we were going to talk today, but why say it like we’re breaking up or something?

Wait, he’s not going to…right?

He must catch my suddenly nervous face, because he smiles softly and says, “Don’t worry. You’re not going anywhere.”

That’s a relief to hear, which doesn’t even surprise me anymore.

“What…” I start, barely finding my voice. My Master feeds me another piece of bacon, and I silently thank him with my eyes for giving me an excuse to not talk until I find the right words. Once I swallow, I continue. “What did you want to talk about?” There’s an awkward pause, one I eventually break by adding a “Master.”

He smiles a little at that, but it fades before he says, “Why did you try to escape?”

I can’t help but glance away, awkwardly wringing my hands in my lap. “I don’t know,” I whisper, looking down.

My Master’s large hand comes to beneath my chin, tilting my head up until I’m forced to look at him. “Tell me, little pet.”

It takes me a few long seconds before I find my courage. “I panicked,” I say, even though it feels like a lie. I’d been trying to find a way to escape for months and I finally took a chance as it presented itself. I guess in a way, I sort of did panic, but it’s not like escaping itself was a split-second decision. If I hadn’t tried then, I would’ve tried another time.

I…I say that like it wasn’t me who created that chance.

I quickly realise this excuse won’t work, but my Master speaks before I can come up with another one.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says, and my heart suddenly begins beating much faster. Will he be angered by the truth? I can’t risk that, but all those thoughts disappear when his knuckles come to my cheek, rubbing up and down in silent reassurance. “Tell me. I won’t be angry.”

I nod. “I just…I tried to find a chance, and I took it.”

“Because you want to escape me?”

I hesitate, looking into his intense yet soft eyes. “No,” I whisper, unsure if that’s a lie or not.

His head tilts, and his eyes narrow a little, but not with anger. “You won’t be able to escape me. You know that,” he says, feeding me a piece of toast. I do, in a way, know that, despite how desperate I am for a way out. After another pause, he continues, “I want you to be happy and comfortable here with me, my pet. I can’t have you thinking you want to run. I don’t want to keep punishing you every few weeks.”

“I don’t want to be punished again, Master,” I mutter in desperation.

“Shh, shh. I know, princess. And you won’t, but you have to obey me. I want you to be happy here, but I won’t hesitate to punish you again should you disobey me.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “I don’t know what to do,” I whimper, surprised by my honesty. I desperately want to be happy, but how can I be happy in captivity? How can I be happy when, if he has his way, I’ll never see my family and friends again? Never be allowed to go to a bookstore or the damn park again?

Sure, there are things I’d like to never go back to, but even so, freedom is a thing I cherish. Having it ripped away from me like this is and being demanded that I enjoy it…it’s too much for any one person to take.

My captor’s eyes soften, clearly understanding my struggle and why I don’t want to verbalise it. He feeds me the last piece of my breakfast as he says, “You don’t need to worry about anything beyond being my good little girl and obeying me. You know you want to.”

When I nod, it doesn’t even feel like a lie. I want to be free, but he’s trained me into enjoying being good for him, despite how much shame it gives me.

My Master grabs the tray of food and places it on the dresser drawer at the end of the bed, then scoots closer to me. He grabs my hips, pulling me up into his lap, his arms wrapping around me. It feels nice, getting this level of physical affection from him, even if we just had a very awkward conversation.

After a moment, my Master breaks the silence. “You need to let go of your futile wishes to escape me, Hannah,” he says, holding me tight. “Only then will you be happy here.”

I get teary eyed before I realise it. I sniff, nodding into his chest, but in my head, I’m so confused. How can he expect me to give in and be happy, when I’d have to sacrifice so much? How can I ever stop wanting freedom?

But, and I hate admitting this, the alternative to freedom isn’t even that bad. It would be one thing if I was chained to a radiator in the basement and some creepy, old balding guy kept me as a slave. All things considered; it could be a lot worse than this.

With him, I’m fed and taken care of. He gives me books to read, a room, allows me to go outside every once in a while. He keeps me clean, showers me with affection, and even eats me out with more enthusiasm than any other man I’ve been with.

That’s not to say that this is better than freedom, but rather that even in the worst-case scenario where he keeps me as his pet forever…is it even that bad?

I hate rationalising it like this, but with my captor’s big arms wrapped around me, it’s becoming increasingly harder to fight all the good feelings he forces me to feel.

I let him gently rock me in his lap, snuggling closer into his chest. I feel so safe in this position, despite how much I wish I didn’t, but part of me feels tired of fighting this.

After a while, my Master gently lifts me off his lap, laying me down in bed on my back. My heart flutters a little at the gentleness of his movements, but it stops completely when he adjusts himself until he’s kneeling between my legs.

“Master?” I ask hesitantly.

“Shh, my pet. Let me take care of you.”

He leans down before he even finishes talking, and a gasp escapes me when his mouth comes down onto the most sensitive parts of me. His tongue, wet and warm, flicks my clit before his lips give it a kiss. He’s slow and careful, and it’s already winding me up tight.

“Fuck, I never get tired of the way you taste,” Master groans, his hot breath fanning me. His fingers wrap around my thighs in a grip so tight that I gasp in pain, but he doesn’t loosen it. He just uses his strong grip to pry my legs apart, spreading me for him like I’m his favourite meal.

“Oh, god…” I moan, head kicked back against the pillow, revelling in the sensation of his face between my thighs. Breathy moans and gasps escape me at the soft sensations. It’s such a different experience when he’s slow and careful like this, and it just makes everything I feel so much more intense.

One of his hands moves closer to my centre, his fingers playing with the edges of my pussy while his mouth closes around my clit. After a minute, his fingers creep closer, finally pushing slowly inside me.

I moan at the friction, my back arching and my hands coming down to his hair, gripping tight to keep him close. He lets me keep my hands there, but we both knows it’s his choice, and that I’m the one under his control.

He groans as he slowly fingers me. His mouth is entirely focused on my clit, like he’s worshipping it. I feel fucking divine, having this large, intimidating man pay so much attention to the most intimate part of me, giving me so much pleasure like he’ll die if he doesn’t.

And with the way he sounds when he says, “You taste so fucking good, baby,” he truly sounds starved.

“Please don’t stop,” I beg, hopelessly grinding against his face and his fingers. He’s let me take some control by allowing me to grip his hair and grind against him, and I’m so happy for it. In this moment, there’s truly nothing I’d rather feel than his face against my pussy.

He thankfully doesn’t stop. He keeps doing the same thing he’s been doing for the past few minutes, the pace of his fingers and the intensity of his licks hitting the sweet spot, letting me go higher and higher. I’m so close to the peak, and I’m desperately chasing it.

He pulls away, just an inch, and I groan in frustration before I can stop myself. He chuckles against me. “You wanna come, my little pet?” he asks.

“Please, Master,” I beg. His fingers are still inside me, so when I grind down, I manage to use them to fuck me a little.

My Master kisses my clit, muttering, “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

I nod desperately. “Please make me come, Master.”

He doesn’t waste a second before his mouth puckers around my clit again. He sucks it into his mouth, a lot harder this time, and the moans I release into the air are so loud I’d be scared of the neighbours hearing us if we weren’t in the middle of nowhere.

I’m so close I can taste it, so I pull him so close I’m not convinced he can breathe anymore, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue flicks my clit while he has it in his mouth, and his fingers curl inside me, hitting that sweet spot and intensifying everything until it’s nearly overwhelming. I can’t see anything but stars and I can’t feel anything but his fingers and his tongue, and after a minute, I’m pushed over the edge.

I cry out even louder than earlier, my back arching to an impossible degree and my vision blackening. The orgasm is so much more intense than I’m used to, because after so long of being away from him and feeling nothing but my stomach eating itself, having him eat me out like this is like going to heaven.

He doesn’t let up throughout my entire orgasm, letting me ride the wave until I’m nothing but shaking limbs and a puddle on the bed. Only then does he pull away, crawling up the length of my body until he can fuse his lips to mine.

I moan at the taste of myself on his lips, letting him pry mine apart with his tongue. He’s so intense, even with the way his tongue dances with mine in my mouth. I can feel his hard length pressing against my abdomen, and I want nothing more than to feel him inside me right now.

Once he breaks away, I ask for just that. “Can you please fuck me, Master?”

He smiles. “There’s my good girl, asking so politely.” His mouth comes down to my neck, and I moan when he sucks my skin into his mouth. He’s so aggressive I’d be worried about someone seeing it if there was anyone other than him to see it. Instead, I give into the feeling, and part of me loves the way he marks me like I’m his property.

After a minute of this, he says against my neck, “I’ll fuck you, princess, but only if you beg me for it.”

Fuck, why does he have to torture me like this? He clearly has no problem fucking me without my consent, so why is he so insistent that I give consent by begging for him to fuck me? He’s such a damn contradiction, I can’t stand it.

Still, when he begins unzipping himself, I can’t help but do as he says. “Please, Master, please.”

He pulls his cock out, slapping it a little against my wet and aching pussy. He hits me right on my clit, and the friction makes me moan. “I said beg, Hannah,” he says, and I have to smother a groan.

“Please fuck me, Master. God, please, I want it so bad,” I whimper, humiliation heating my cheeks.

He lays his length down onto my core, grinding a little against me. It feels so good, yet not nearly good enough, and by this point, I’m delirious with pleasure and need.

“Please!” I gasp with desperation.

He lines himself up with my entrance, and I think I’m finally about to get relief, but he just pauses there, not moving. “Such a good pet, aren’t you? Begging so well for me. Your needy cunt needs my cock that bad?”

I nod desperately, because right now, nothing exists but my need for him inside me. “Yes, Master,” I whimper. I’m convinced I’ll cry if he doesn’t fuck me right now.

He smiles, then slowly pushes himself inside me. Relief floods my senses, and I moan at the stretch, at the way he hurts me just a little. It’s such a tight fit, yet it feels perfect.

His thrusts are slow and careful at first, yet he bottoms out with each one. He’s so deep inside me, forcing me to feel every inch of him, and when his hard body lays down on top of mine, I feel him on every inch of my skin as well.

His mouth finds my neck again, licking it and making me moan and writhe with pleasure. “Oh, god…” I moan when he bites me, marking me even further.

He pulls away just an inch, still thrusting inside me, and his hot breath makes me shiver as he says, “You’re mine, Hannah.”

“Yes,” I gasp out before I realise it.

He leans on his elbows, his face hovering over mine. “Are you?”

“Yes, Master,” I force out. “I’m yours.” I moan and writhe beneath him as he takes me, so consumed by him that I barely register what I’m agreeing to.

“Good girl,” he growls, then his mouth fuses with mine.

His thrusts turn quicker, just a little more violent, as his tongue pries my lips apart. We both moan against each other as our tongues swirl around. The feel of his hard body so close to mine and his tongue and cock inside me drive me closer and closer to a second climax, but what unleashes me is when he wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes.

I cry out, the sound getting lost somewhere in my Master’s mouth, as I feel myself being ripped apart at the seams. He’s right behind me, groaning as he plunges into me and comes somewhere deep inside me, filling me up. My limbs are wrapped around him, our mouths and tongues as close as they can be, as we both come apart for each other.

It's a pure, horrific ecstasy, the feeling overwhelming us both, and it takes a good minute before we come back down to earth.

He pulls out, and I cringe a little as he does. I’m so sensitive down there, I’m sure I’m red, so every inch of him passing through feels way too intense.

After he cleans me up in the shower, we spend the rest of the day together, either relaxing or fucking or talking. It feels nice to talk about things, even if I have to call him Master during every conversation, and it feels surprisingly normal. Like we’re a real relationship or something.

Obviously we aren’t, but it’s nice to pretend, at least for a few hours.

The conversations get a little awkward whenever I talk about my family or friends, because of course. What can he say to make me feel better about missing them, when he’s the one who ripped me away from them? It’s not like he can just take me to go see them one day.

Strangely enough, I find myself sympathising with the awkward position it puts him in. He can’t console me or apologise for taking me away from them, but he obviously still feels a little bad. Maybe that’s why I find myself reassuring him that I’m fine, even though I’m not.

After we eat dinner together, he gets us both ready for bed, but something surprises me when our heads hit our pillows. He doesn’t lock my ankle to the bed.

Things have changed, obviously, and I don’t know how he can ever trust me again after what I did. It doesn’t matter that he’s shown me that he can overpower me and punish me for acting up, he’d still be a fool to not take precautions.

But what doesn’t surprise me isn’t that he either forgot or didn’t bother locking my ankle to the bed. What surprises me is that I speak up about it.

“Master?” I ask, turning my head to look back at him. We’re spooning, so when he answers, I feel his breath fanning the sensitive skin at my neck.

“Yes, my pet?”

I swallow, hesitating. Part of me thinks I’m fucking stupid for reminding him of the ankle cuff, and maybe I really am an idiot, but right now, I just don’t care.

“Are you going to lock my ankle to the bed?” I ask, so low I’m not sure he heard me.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, and I’m about to repeat myself, but then he breaks the silence. “Do you want me to?”

What a loaded question that is. Do I want him to? Not really. Okay, I kind of do, in a very, very fucked up way.

It’s hard to pinpoint why I nod, honestly, but as he reaches down and cuffs my ankle to the bed, I realise it. It’s not that I don’t want to escape, it’s that I do, and that’s the problem. I want to escape so fucking bad, but some small, fucked up part of me wants to keep me from trying. Part of me wants to make sure I can’t escape, even if I want to, because now that I’m locked to the bed, I don’t feel bad about snuggling closer to my Master’s chest. It’s not like I can get away anyway, right? This way, I get to go to sleep peacefully, knowing that I have no way of getting away from him.

And maybe that’s why, when I drift off to sleep, the ankle cuff feels as comforting and safe as the way my Master’s arms feel wrapped around my waist.

Thank you so much for reading!💜