Since being at Max's house, everything between us had been so much different that I imagined it would be. I was so sure that after we were alone he would finally profess his love for me, and while he has certainly professed his sexual interest, the only one who he has admitted to loving is my mother.

When he left me alone in my room after we’d had sex that first time, I was too shocked and hurt to even move for at least an hour. I just lay there curled up on the bed, the restraints hanging limply from the bedpost, and silently cried that I could be so stupid. Why did I think that Max loved me? I was just a stupid little girl to him, and now I was humiliated. Everything I’d done since I’d been home had been for him, and he’s done nothing but give me the cold shoulder time and again. He even admitted to being in love with my bitch, addict mother. Me? Nothing.

I fell asleep against him, his warm body cradling me after he fucked me again. Every time he came near me, I wanted so much to be angry with him, to treat him like he treated me, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When I looked into his dark eyes, I was under his spell every time, willing to do anything he asked. He tied me to this bed and I just let him ravage me, enjoying every minute of it.

I hated myself for the way I let him treat me, but I couldn’t help it.

Lying in bed with the morning sun filtering in, I forced myself to get out of bed and head to the bathroom. Max had left me a warm robe to wear, and I slid into it, thankful for the soft fabric against my skin. I felt so small and vulnerable around him and I wanted so badly for him to take care of me.

I padded into the bathroom and splashed cool water on my face. Letting my robe hang open, I surveyed myself in the mirror and wondered why he wouldn't let me touch him, wondered why he wouldn't kiss me and tell me he that loved me. I was beautiful enough. I was better than my mother in every way and he should be able to see that.

I couldn't stamp down the jealousy that was within me. Even though she was dead, she was still preventing my happiness. How the fuck did she manage to ruin my life even from the grave?

My blood boiled with anger and my head filled with negative thoughts as I brushed my teeth and ran a brush through my hair. I opened the bathroom drawer, looking for lotion to spread over my legs, when something caught my eye.

An emerald earring was nested in a small dish inside the drawer. I picked it up and held it in my hand. My mother had lost this earring and had called me after I was back at school, accusing me of taking it. I was dumbfounded that she would accuse me of stealing a single earring as if I was some common thief that frequented pawn shops.

I realize as I stared at the earring in my hand that she must have lost it here or in Max’s office, and he found it. The fact that he was holding onto it made me blind with rage. He surely wasn't planning on cashing it in, he had plenty of money. He still needed this token of her presence, even though he had me now.

I squeezed it in my hand so hard that it left an imprint, and then in a fit of rage, I hurled it across the floor.

"How dare you!" I said out loud.

"How dare I what?" Max said, leaning against the doorframe.

I nearly jumped out of my skin, startled by his presence. I turned to stare him down.

My heart racing, I looked at him with rage. "How fucking dare you still keep her things here?" I spat at him. "She's gone! She's fucking gone! You're supposed to be a doctor, can't you understand when someone is fucking dead and not coming back?"

I was screaming at the top of my lungs, the blood rushing to my face. I felt like throwing things. I wanted to pull everything out of the medicine cabinet and throw it all across the bathroom. I wanted to show him how much it hurt that he loved my mother and not me.

Max rushed at me then, flinging his arms around me and holding me close to him, pinning me against his body while I thrashed wildly, to no avail.

He was much stronger than I was, but I beat against him, insisting that he let me go. I wanted to fight.

"You don't love me! You’re still in love with her and I fucking know it! You won’t kiss me or let me touch you! You just want a hole to fuck! That’s all I am to you, right? Just a warm hole!“

Max dragged me from the bathroom and tackled me onto the bed. Lying on top of me, he held me down until I was no longer thrashing. I had no energy left by the time I stopped fighting him. It felt as if all of the rage that I had been holding in for years was suddenly coming out now. I didn’t care what he thought of me, I didn’t care if he thought that I was acting like a child.

He had played me, and that's all there was to it.

"Emily, you have to stop yelling like this," Max said sternly.

I pushed against him with all my might, but he wasn't going anywhere. "No! It's all your fault! You deserve to be yelled at!” I screamed.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to restrain you." Max said calmly, holding me down on the bed.

I thrashed against him once more.

He expertly grabbed my wrists and splayed them on the bed, slipping the restraint on my wrist after pulling my arm out of the sleeve of the robe before I could even react.

He quickly fastened the other side, then moved down to the foot of the bed and secured my ankles, leaving me splayed on the bed, completely naked.

Something about being tied to the bed, and the way he looked at me when I was spread before him immediately calmed me. I began to cry.

Max approached me, leaning over my face and brushing my hair away. He wiped my tears from my cheek with the back of his hand, and then lay down beside me, one arm draped over my body.

He let his hand rest on my breast, and ran his thumb over my nipple, making it harden immediately under his expert touch.

"Emily," he said in a low voice. "You are being very unruly. Do you know what I do with unruly girls?" his eyes looked deeply into mine. I didn’t want him to look at me like that, though. I knew my eyes had to be red and puffy from crying. I quickly realized that the way he was talking to me was making me wet despite being angry with him only seconds earlier. I hated myself for the way I reacted to him.

I took a deep breath. He trailed his finger down my belly stopping just above my pussy.

"Emily, I know that we both want this. Now, do you want to calm down and allow yourself to take what you want, or are you going to keep throwing a tantrum?" Max said, circling his finger on my upper thigh.

"Because I think I know what will calm you down, and I think we will both feel better afterward, don't you?"

I nodded meekly. I wished he didn’t have power over me like this, but I couldn't help but give it to him.

He pulled down his pajama pants, leaving them in a heap on the floor, as I watched him closely. My pain was still there, but the promise of his closeness was enough to appease me. I wanted so much more from him, but the sex was better than nothing. My pussy was dripping wet beneath me, despite myself. My body just reacted to him that way.

He positioned himself between my legs and sunk into my slick hole, slowly at first, then beginning to pound into me with force. He never broke eye contact as his cock ravaged my pussy, and I moaned involuntarily. I felt the pull of the restraints on all four limbs as his cock continued to drive into me.

“Max!” I moaned.

"That's it, my doll, let it all out," he whispered with a smile on his face. I loved seeing him look down at me like that, but it made me sad to realize that it was only when he was fucking me. My eyes filled with tears as I watched him watch me.

He bent down and bit my nipple, hard, sending currents of what started out as pain, but what quickly became electric jolts of pleasure, straight to my clit.

"Oh God, Max," I called out, unable to stop myself from shuddering as an orgasm ripped through me. "Oh god, you're making me come!”

Max gripped my hips, holding me on him as I clenched his cock. I could feel him bucking and twitching inside of me as he came inside me too, filling me up with his sticky hot seed. It felt so good knowing that he was inside me. Not just his cock, but his most intimate fluids. They made me feel loved and accepted. I knew it wasn't enough. I knew that I needed more from Max, but it was all he was giving me right now and I had to make it enough.

As the waves of our orgasms subsided, he removed himself from me, then calmly asked if I felt better.

I nodded my head.

"Does that mean that once I untie you, you’ll behave yourself?" He asked me slowly. "I would like to give you your freedom, Emily, but you have to promise me that you can handle it. I can't have you throwing things and screaming. You are supposed to be out here to relax and let go."

"I'm sorry. I …” But I couldn’t go on. Tears started streaming down my cheeks and I turned my head away from him. “I won’t do it again, I promise. I’ll control myself." The truth was, I didn’t know if I would be able to do that or not. I had so many emotions coursing through me, I actually didn't feel in control of myself at all.

He unclasped the restraints, and I slowly moved my arms and legs in. They felt weak and it took a while before I was able to sit up. I felt dizzy and my body felt light. When he didn't wrap me in his arms and hold me close to him, I started to feel anxious again. I pulled on my robe, expecting him to stop me, but he didn't.

He just sat back and watched me intently, waiting to see how I was going to act. I scooted to the edge of the bed and turned my back to him. Thoughts of my mother and her boozy face the night she died wormed their way back into my mind and I felt my mood quickly deteriorating.

Before I knew what I was doing, my mouth started to speak without my full permission, but I couldn't hold back letting him know the truth. If he was going to treat me this way, hold me at arm's length like this, then he deserved to live with the ugly reality just like me. It wasn't fair that he got to hold onto her and have me as well, thinking that he could just do whatever he wanted with my heart.

"I killed her, Max." I heard myself say.

"No, you didn't, Emily,” he answered softly. "It’s normal for you to feel responsible, but it’s not your fault. She fell. It could have happened to anyone, under any circumstances. I know you didn't have a great relationship, but you can’t blame yourself.”

I actually laughed. "No, Max, you don't understand."

"Emily, not to play the doctor card, but I think I do. I have seen this over and over again in my practice. It’s natural for a grieving child to feel guilty about the death of a parent, but you have to let go of the guilt—“

"Max!" I said, interrupting him, but not turning toward him. "I fucking killed her. How do you think she fell down those stairs, Max? I pushed her drunken ass down them after she kicked me out, that's how!" My voice had raised an octave. I couldn't stop myself now.

"The fucking bitch wanted to die, couldn't you see that? You're her fucking doctor! She was constantly on tranquilizers and booze, cheating an overdose every single fucking night. When I finally came home from school for good, she kicked me out of the house, knowing I had nowhere to go!"

Max sat in stunned silence.

"She did it to keep me away from you! She didn't want us to be together! She wanted to keep you under her thumb so she could keep playing her little games with you! So that she could keep getting her drugs! Don’t you see that? I killed her for you, Max! I pushed her down those steps so we could be together!" I was wailing now, tears streaming from my eyes. "And you're fucking it all up!" I screamed between sobs.

Max grabbed me by the shoulders, whipping me around to face him.

"What the fuck have you done?" He whispered in such a way that made it unclear if he was talking to himself or me. He threw me back on the bed, towering over me and shaking me by the shoulders into the mattress.

"What the fuck have you done?" he screamed. He looked hysterical. I had never seen him lose his cool, and it terrified me.

"I did it for us," I choked, tears streaming down the sides of my face.

"No!" he yelled, as if he could change the reality by screaming it away. "No!"

He yanked me up from the bed, pulling me by my arm.

"I did it for us, Max! That bitch hated me, and hated the way you looked at me!" I screamed at him hysterically, between sobs. He dragged me down the hall, despite my protests. "Let me go, Max! Why don't you just fucking let me go if you don't want me?" I begged.

Max wouldn't answer. He yanked open a door that led to the cellar, shoving me through it, then down a set of dark steps before he pushed me into a room. I jumped when I heard the metal door slam shut behind me.

"Why are you doing this to me?!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, so harshly that it hurt my throat. "Why?" I banged on the door furiously, trying to bust through it with my shoulder.

It was no use. He had locked me in his basement like a monster, and by the way he looked at me after I told him what I’d done, he wasn't going to let me out. Possibly not ever.