It’s the last time I saw food.
Any kind, whatsoever.
I’ve been drinking water from the tap from a glass ever since. Just a few gulps at first to quench my thirst, but as the days passed, I started replacing the emptiness in my stomach with water. At least it would calm my hunger for a little while to make me forget.
But every passing day has made me shakier, more tired, more … everything.
The more I force myself to think of something else, the less it works. Food is all I can think about even though I know I’ll survive. At least, for now. A human body is capable of so much. But I never imagined the mental toll it takes, and that, more than anything, is the real struggle.
With every passing second, I grow more lethargic and complacent.
Soon, my resolve will crumble.
I will beg.
I will plead.
Even if the food is poisoned, I would probably eat it with glee, knowing it was my last meal … at least I’d die with a full stomach.
I can’t think like that, but being hungry does that to a person’s mind.
Maybe this is my real punishment. Not the lack of food but the breakdown of all the resolve and dignity that comes with it.
Groaning, I roll over in bed, but my growling stomach won’t stop waking me up. I can’t fucking sleep, not when I lie down nor when I sit up, and it’s maddening.
All I can think of is slamming my fists onto that door and begging.
Beg for them to let me out.
Tell them I’m willing to do anything …
But what would that make of me?
Would I be a coward for giving in?
All of it, the defiance, staying here without food, the buzzing panties … will all have been for nothing.
But I can’t take it anymore.
With the last bit of energy I have left, I throw the blanket off and set my feet on the floor. I groan and force myself to ignore the looming headache as I get up and walk to the door. I reach for the wood with a shaky hand and pound on it a few times.
“I give up,” I murmur.
There’s no response. No sound. Nothing.
Nothing to suggest anyone’s there.
“Please … I take it back,” I murmur. “I want to eat.”
I know he doesn’t do takebacks, and once I’ve said something, it’s taken seriously. Which is why I hope he’s capable of growth too. I have to pray he doesn’t just keep me here for the sake of punishing me … just to let me die.
No, he wants to keep me alive, so I’m sure this will work. Right?
I turn my head and gaze at the cameras I’ve found. I know he’s watching me. He must know what I said. What I begged for.
So why is it taking so long?
I plant my forehead against the door and breathe out a few sighs. Was it all worth it? I said I wouldn’t eat, that I didn’t trust them, but what difference did it make? Sitting here in my room doing nothing while I could’ve tried my best to manipulate him and get out …
“You won. I lost,” I mutter against the wood.
And I sink to the floor with my back against the door, huddling my legs close to me.
After a few minutes, the door handle is pushed down.
I quickly crawl away and scramble to gather myself while still on the floor as the door creaks open and in steps a foot.
I expected Mary to come and get me so I could eat downstairs again.
But it’s Eli himself wearing merely a button-down white shirt and a pair of black pants coupled with a big shiny gold belt buckle, and in his hands, he has a big plate filled with food, the mere smell making my mouth water.
But when my eyes rise to meet his, they almost burn a hole into me. I gulp and settle down on the floor, realizing that none of this will come easy.
Food is never really just food.
It’s a bargaining chip.
And he wants … submission.
Eli
Her fragile, small body sits on the carpeted floor, her eyes full of hunger but also something else. Betrayal.
A smirk forms on my lips as I step farther inside and close the door behind me, the clicking of the lock the only sound in this room.
She stays put in the middle as though she’s frozen in time, only the rise and fall of her shoulders with every shallow breath giving life away.
I lick my lips and tip the plate forward, allowing her to see what’s on top. She momentarily glances at the food, her tongue darting out to wet her lips at the sight of the sweet pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries on top. A personal favorite of mine, especially for moments such as these.
Her body leans in, almost as if it’s lured forward on its own by the promise of food. But her brain kicks in and forces her to stop, her fingers digging into the skin of her thighs.
It is a beautiful thing to watch the mind unravel and be overtaken by the body.
And we haven’t even started yet.
I place the plate down on the cabinet next to the door, and her eyes immediately home in on it as though she’s contemplating snatching it right out from underneath my nose. But she’s not the first who has attempted that, and I don’t think I have to remind her she won’t be successful because the very next thing she does is eyeball me to gauge my reaction.
I’m not easily persuaded to give in.
And she knows this too.
“Why did you come?” she asks.
I point at the camera in the corner. “You knew those were there … that’s why you looked.”
She swallows as the muscles in her body grow tenser. “So you did hear me.” She glares at the food again, almost as if she’s mad that I brought it up here.
My brow rises, and I lean against the cabinet, blocking her view of the food. “Someone always keeps an eye on you.”
“Great …” She sighs and folds her arms. “And perverted.”
I snort and smile at her comment. “Not when you go to the toilet.”
She narrows her eyes. “That doesn’t make it any better.”
I cock my head and shrug. “I think so, personally.”
“Are you just here to chitchat with me?” she asks.
I release the cabinet and take a step toward her. She immediately jumps up to her feet and steps away. When I stop, she sinks to the floor again as though she regrets ever moving.
“I came … because you begged,” I answer.
Her eyes bore into mine. Another swallow.
I loosen my cuffs and slide them up to my elbows, capturing her attention with a simple show of dominance. I grab the plate from the cabinet again and walk toward her, holding it tightly in my hand so she won’t be able to steal something.
Towering over her, I look down at her from underneath my lashes. “Kneel.”
She frowns for a second, then looks confused, her eyes constantly wandering off to the plate. Her mouth must be watering at the sight. But there is a price to pay for defiance. A sin is followed by punishment.
“Is that what you want?”
When I don’t reply, she changes positions, swiftly spinning around so her legs are no longer in front of her but behind her, and her ass lowers onto her heels.
Good. Finally, she obeys.
I step closer and look at the beauty in front of me, at the woman below me who is dying for this meal … who would be willing to give her freedom, and all that it entails, away for a simple bite.
I go on one knee, still clutching the plate tightly, and reach for the fork.
When she does the same, I pull away again.
She stops and eyes me. “I thought I could eat.”
“You can …” I say. “On my terms.”
A scowl forms on her face. “That’s not fair.”
I raise a brow. “You asked for this, remember?”
“I asked for food,” she retorts.
“And you asked to be punished.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t reply, so I take that as an acknowledgment.
She makes a face at me. “Why can’t I just feed myself?”
I don’t answer because she knows why.
I am the captor; she is the captive. I am the one who punishes; she is the one who sins. There is no other way around, no reasoning, no bargaining to be done. This is it. This is the deal she made.
“How many more rules are there?” she asks.
“As many as I see fit,” I answer, and I grab the fork and stick on some of the pre-cut pancakes. “Now …” I swirl the fork through the whipped cream. “Open up.”
When the fork approaches her mouth, she still refuses to yield.
“It is not poisoned,” I offer as a sign of good faith.
“How do I know for sure?” she asks, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
A smile forms on my lips. So mistrustful. “You don’t.”
“But I—”
“But you begged,” I interrupt, throwing her a look.
She shuts her mouth again and gazes at me with both rage and fear swirling in her eyes. Rage at me coming in here to feed her like she’s a child and fear for not knowing what more I could demand if she surrenders.
And that’s what she needs to understand. There is no choice. No ifs, ands, or buts.
“Do as I say, and you will be all right,” I say.
“Will I be free?” she asks, lowering her eyes to the carpet. “If I eat this food, will you let me go?”
I force her chin up. “Only you have that power …”
“I don’t understand what you mean. I don’t have any power here.”
I peer into her eyes. “Freedom comes at a price, a price you’re not willing to pay … yet.”
She turns her head away as I approach with the fork again, the aroma luring her nostrils to turn her head again so she can see just how delicious these pancakes are.
My face softens for a moment, and I lean in to tilt her chin up again. “This is what you want. Now eat.”
Finally, her lips part, and her mouth opens. I slide the fork onto her tongue, taking ample time to enjoy the sheer pleasure of an obedient angel chewing on and swallowing the food I have given her.
“Good girl,” I murmur.
I pick up a strawberry and run it through the whipped cream. Her eyes follow my every move as though she’s wondering what I’m going to do … what else I could do with these fingers of mine.
Oh, there is plenty … but I will take it slowly with her. I’ll wait and coax her into doing exactly as I please. And we’ll start with food.
I bring the strawberry up to her lips, circling them with the whipped cream until she opens them, never taking my eyes off her. I want her to know I’m watching and that I’m enjoying every second of dominating her.
And when her lips part and I push the strawberry inside, I simply can’t stop the devilish grin from appearing on my face. Her cheeks flush with heat, and she quickly swallows the strawberry, almost afraid of the effect she has on me. But I don’t mind … at all.
With every bite and every swallow, my cock hardens against my pants. And as she takes more and more bites, my mind trails off to all the sinful things I wish to do to her, all the ways I could make her body yield to me … about how good it would feel to have her tongue wrapped around my cock.
I groan with delight as she swallows, and she momentarily stops eating as I smile.
“Go on … you were hungry, right?” I tip the fork against her lips again, but her eyes trail off down my chest to my pants tenting from my stiff cock.
She gulps, her cheeks getting an even brighter shade of red, and it brings me such pleasure watching her crumble to desire.
She’d never admit out loud that she secretly wants me. But I’m sure she’s considered it a few times, and the mere thought makes me want to pounce on her like a lion who’s finally caught its prey.
But as long as she doesn’t submit, she remains off-limits. Untouchable. Because it’s not me who begged to be punished, it was her choice. And it should be her undoing.
I skewer the rest of the pancakes onto the fork and push them into her mouth until she swallows it all. A small smile appears and vanishes within a split second, but I caught it, and it makes my inner lion grumble with pleasure.
“You finished your plate,” I muse.
She licks her lips and peeks over my shoulder as though she’s wondering if there’s more.
“Are you still hungry?” I ask.
She makes a face and looks away, her hands clenched on her knees.
I grab her chin and make her look at me. “You can have food as long as you obey the rules. Do you understand?”
She nods.
“When Mary tells you to come downstairs to eat with us, you will do so.”
She doesn’t reply, but I know she heard me.
“When I tell you to do anything … you will do exactly that.”
“Why?” she asks. “If that’s all a part of my punishment …” She licks her lips again and briefly glances down at my clearly tented pants. “What else is?”
My eyes flash with the same hunger hers showed mere minutes ago. “Everything.”
Chapter 14
Amelia
He gets up from the floor and places the plate of pancakes onto the cabinet, then sits down on the chair against the wall, his legs wide open. His fingers tap against each other as he stares at me with a daring look in his eyes as though I’m supposed to know what to do.
With renewed energy, I get up from the floor, my nightgown barely covering my private parts. I stand there staring right back at him.
“Come here,” he says with an assertive voice.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. I can choose to fight him, to run and risk my chances. But the possibility of ending up having to endure countless hours without food or those orgasmic waves for hours on end is enough to make me want to forget that option even exists. Choosing to obey would be the easier choice … but at what cost? My sanity.
Giving in to him means admitting that I need to submit. That he is right, and I am wrong. He’s giving me the idea of a choice, but not the freedom that comes with it.
My legs are still shaky as I approach him, my stomach still growling as though it’s trying to make up for all the lost food by eating it all in one go.
He beckons me as if to say, “There’s more where that came from.” All I need to do is beg.
Beg … and obey. It all seems so simple, yet I cannot stop fighting the turmoil in my head.
He looks up at me from his seated position, taunting me to act. He has no weapon, nothing to keep me in place or stop me from attacking him. It’s a test. I can sense it.
His eyes narrow. “Kneel.”
I shudder but still do as he asks, realizing that doing so would be the safest choice. I bend through the knees until I’m on the floor in front of him. He cocks his head and leans over to grab a strand of my hair, only to slowly tuck it behind my ear. The gentleness of his touch catches me off guard.
How can a captor be so gentle and such a monster at the same time? Every single touch he gives me right now is one I crave, and I don’t know why. Have I lost my mind already?
His thumb lingers near my mouth, a simple touch to my lips sending electricity down my spine. His finger still smells of strawberry pancakes and delicious sin. Mere minutes ago, he was feeding me with these same fingers. A man who denied me food and then gave it to me anyway just because I asked …
Confusion settles in slowly but surely, and judging from the haunting look on his face, that’s exactly what he had planned.
He leans back again in the chair and places both hands on the armrests like a king judging his people. “Tell me again what you told me in that library,” he says. “Your deepest, darkest wish.”
I gasp. I’ve tried so hard not to remember why I said those words. And I know that’s the reason he forces me to say them out loud.
I look down at my own knees, wondering how I got here. Why I gave in so easily and whether it’s going to be worth it in the end. “I asked to be punished.”
“Exactly,” he replies. “Now look at me.”
When I do what he asks, his hand moves down to his belt, which he slowly unbuckles. Then he pulls the button on his pants and zips down. I gulp when he nudges down his boxer shorts, and his cock springs out.
I’ve seen my fair share of men, but this … he’s so huge that it almost makes my eyes fall out. His tongue briefly darts out to wet his lips, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact I was staring. But my body still tenses up as he grasps his cock. What is he going to make me do? Will he tell me to pleasure him as a punishment?
He starts rubbing himself in front of me. At first it’s slow, careful, like he’s taking his time to enjoy himself. And I keep my eyes on him, not because he asked me to, but because I want him to know exactly what I feel and think about him. Because I’m waiting for him to pull the trigger, get up, and fuck me.
But as the more time passes and the harder he jerks off, the more I’m beginning to doubt my own conclusions. When he stands, I take a deep breath. Here he comes.
I close my eyes and wait for the inevitable. All men eventually end up savages.
The longer I wait, the more it seems like forever.
“Look at me,” he growls.
When I open my eyes, he’s still right in front of me, furiously jerking himself off. His tip is right near my forehead, and I don’t move an inch. His eyes are filled with fire, the kind that sets a soul alight and burns with a passion that shoots the pleasure right up your veins. And for a moment, I’m in awe of this man, this captor of mine who has taken my breath away.
His thick cock glistens with pre-cum, and it drips down onto my skin. Drip. Drip. Drip. I swallow when the droplet is large enough to roll down my nose and onto my lips. His hand reaches for my face, his thumb gently nudging my jaw down until my lips part, and the droplet rolls into my mouth like a salty afternoon snack.
The groan that emanates from his chest pushes all my buttons. I don’t know why it affects me this much. Or why I let this man do these things to me without putting up a fight. Or why … my pussy is flushing with heat and desire.
Dark Wish (A Dark Romance) Page 9