Is that it? Where’s the next instruction? What am I supposed to do now? Where should I go?

Besides… That phrase… Is it just me or is that… unusual?

I don’t often come across that phrase except in the pages of my favorite romance novels. I also heard it in The Dungeon, where one man even said it to me, and I promptly blushed got flustered like the virgin I was.

That’s probably why he sent me away.

Right after, I told Elizabeth, my friend who took me to the club, about the encounter. She squealed like a little girl and told me how sexy it was—as if I needed her to tell me. She also insisted that I try to find him.

With his tall figure, he should’ve been easy to find. But he was also wearing a black suit and a black mask—just like 80% of the male club-goers.

Besides, he seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t like getting hit on. I was afraid of rousing his anger by approaching him without his permission.

But Elizabeth assured me that a good dominant’s punishment could be enjoyable. She didn’t need to convince me—my wet panties had already done that.

Too bad I didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

Well, actually, I’ve been seeing him… kind of. Every night since the encounter, in fact. But only when I’m alone in the darkness of my bedroom, when I’m indulging in my fantasies, my fingers slipping into my panties.

I can’t stop thinking about my limbs being restrained, while that mysterious man paces behind me. In my imagination, the room is silent, or maybe the atmosphere is so intense I block out all other stimuli. The only sounds I hear are the tapping of his shoes against the floor and my own quick, shallow breaths.

He rests his hand on my shoulder, then he drags it down my side and my thigh. It feels like my nerve endings have come alive. I can sense every little touch…

Beep!

The sound of a new email interrupts my thoughts, making my dirty fantasy dissipate into the crisp night air.

It’s just as well. I shouldn’t get obsessed with something that’s impossible anyway.

It was already unlikely that I was ever going to see that man again, after the awkward way I’d behaved in front of him.

And now, I’m probably going to lose my freedom, and I don’t know what else. I have no idea what’s about to happen, so I’m assuming the worst.

It’s unlikely that I’ll be able to even see that man again while I’m another man’s captive. But he probably doesn’t want me as his Submissive anyway. A man like him, who oozes power and dominance, probably has his pick of beautiful, perfectly trained women to choose from.

It’s better to focus on what’s happening now. I’ll worry about everything else later.

The glare of my screen blinds me momentarily. My vision adjusts and I narrow my eyes to read the latest email.

I look to my left, widening my eyes so I can see more in the darkness. It takes me a few seconds to confirm what I already know.

That’s a dead end.

Where is this guy taking me?

I squint my eyes and re-read the message, letting my eyes be assaulted by the glare. 45 steps to the left, huh?

Strange.

Firstly, every email since I reached the woods has told me to take 100 steps in a particular direction. Now, we have 45 steps. Am I close to the destination?

Secondly, he’s been making me go around in circles, but going to the left means entering the narrow path between two rock cliffs. Many such paths in this area only lead to dead ends. So where am I going, exactly?

My heart races as adrenaline pumps into my blood. What’s waiting for me when I get there?

I guess there’s only one way to find out.

I pull my left leg out of the thick mud and take one step to the left. My boot lands with a wet, sticky sound. With this leg secure on the ground, I do my other leg and take my second step.

Jesus, this is a chore.

The mud must’ve been worse when Father had gotten lost in the storm. So how did he stray so far from the footpath and find this mysterious man’s hiding place?

I should ask him next time he comes home.

Oh, no. That reminds me… I probably won’t be there next time Father comes home. My future is now determined by what this man wants from me.

Well, at least I got a nice flower out of it.

I snort, laughing at my own private joke.

If I’ll be on my own from now on, I should probably get used to entertaining myself.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to indulge myself with fantasies about the mysterious man at the club.

I didn’t see much of him because of the mask, and he also wore a hat. Still, I could tell he had thick, golden curls, because a few stray strands peeked out from under the rim of his hat.

His eyes were icy blue—it’s strange that such a cold color could ignite such a hot flame inside me.

I couldn’t stop watching him when he spoke, because he sounded so authoritative. I wanted so badly for him to just take me, right then and there. He could’ve taken my virginity before I got involved in something like this.

It may seem crazy that I get lost in my imagination at a time like this. But I’ve learned to accept that I can’t change a lot of things in life, so I might as well enjoy what I can. Life is short, after all.

If all I have is my imagination, I should make the most of it, right?

I stop after my 45th step.

Immediately, an email arrives. Beep!

Damn, is this guy still watching me?

All I can see around me are dark cliffs and shadows cast by the taller trees. A camera—or even multiple cameras—could be hidden in the trees, or even on the cliff face. But it’s too dark for me to see clearly

The email loads and shows up on my screen.

Push the…

Is this guy crazy? Maybe he’s on drugs.

The “rock” refers to the cliff face. We’re talking about tens of thousands of tons of weight here. Does he really think I can do anything to it?

He probably just wants to watch me fail and laugh at me. This must be some kind of a cruel prank.

But if he’s watching, I guess I should give him a good show. I don’t want him to think I’m a worthless prisoner and decide to take my father after all.

I put my palms against the rock. It’s hard and unyielding. It’s cold, too, and it’s absorbing whatever body heat I still have through my hands. I’m not enjoying this.

I press on the rock, then I put my body weight behind it. I need to look like I’m really trying, for the sake of my audience, even though we both know this is stupid.

Wait.

Did it…

Did the rock just…

Did it move?

What the…?

I stop to look down at the sandy soil between the two cliffs. There’s a clear line on the ground, where the rock used to be. It has definitely moved.

I don’t know what’s happening. Apparently the laws of physics don’t apply tonight.

But I guess I just have to keep pushing. At least the guy is not just pulling my leg, right?

As I push, I realize why it’s hard to tell that this rock can be moved. The grains of sand keep moving as strong wind blows between the two cliffs. This makes it impossible for any imprints on the sand to remain for much longer than a minute or two.

I’m also in the dark so it’s hard to tell, but the colors on this fake rock look convincing.

Whatever this is, it wasn’t made by some punk from the town. This is a work of art. Whoever made this must be very proud of his creation.

The rock keeps moving as I push on it. I’m afraid of this guy because he’s a stranger and I have no idea what he wants, but I’m also impressed and fascinated.

A dark tunnel is revealed to my left.

The path is narrow, and the ceiling is low. There’s just enough space for one person to pass through.

It looks like a pretty long tunnel. I can’t see very far inside because there’s only one torch hung on the rock wall, close to this entrance. Beyond that, there’s only darkness.

Who does this place belong to?

A freaking tunnel inside a cliff, with a secret rock door?

Who could build something like this? Or, since a place this big can’t possibly be the work of just one pair of hands, who could commission people to build something like this?

My initial guess was correct after all. This guy has to be someone. I mean like, some wealthy nobility.

But what could someone like that want from an average girl like me?