CHAPTER FIVE

“SUSAN DIDN’T CUT BACK ON the dosage,” I inform Chandler at breakfast the next morning. I wanted to call her ‘the bitch,’ but I don’t want to upset Chandler. This precarious balance of keeping him happy and keeping my sanity is becoming taxing.

“Oh?” He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned.

This morning I got up early enough to have breakfast with him. Spread before us is a hearty selection of eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and fruit. I fill my plate to the max because I’m feeling unusually hungry. The freshly squeezed orange juice that Susan poured us is heavenly, but I’m beginning to realize that I don’t like her at all.

I stare at Chandler across the table from me, thinking that his charm is quickly wearing off. While I woke up in a much better mood, my confusion over everything has me on edge.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I ask, just trying to make conversation.

“No—”

“Questions,” I cut him off. Lord knows I’ve heard him say it enough. I’m not sure why I even try to get information out of him. He grins at me. “How did you sleep last night?” I try something else, though still a question.

“Well.”

The fact that he doesn’t ask me the same question back is irritating.

“I had another strange dream last night.” I butter a piece of toast.

“Oh?”

“Are you interested?” My jaw clenches.

“Of course.” He furrows his brow, seemingly offended by my assuming that he’s not.

“You rape me in my sleep,” my words are clipped.

“Rape you?” His mouth falls agape. Now I have his full attention. The concern is there for a glimmer of a second before it fades into a flirty smile. “Do you enjoy it?”

Now I’m the one looking shocked. To say no would be a lie. I just want to know if it’s real or not. “Do you…” I hesitate. “Do you come into my room at night?”

“No questions asked.” There’s wickedness in his gaze that chills me to the core.

“I’m going to assume that’s a yes.” I return my attention to my food. Looking at him is making me feel strange things, and I can’t tell if I like them or not.

“Assume what you will. That doesn’t make it true.” He leans back, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

I feel like my head is going to explode. He’s a complete mindfuck.

“Would you like to workout with me after breakfast?” Chandler sets his napkin on top of the table and pushes his plate away.

I consider it. This may be the only interaction I get with him today. I should take it.

“Sure.” My eyes float across my plate, and I wonder how much more food I can pack in before he expects me to follow him.

“Good. I’ll see you outside in fifteen.” He scoots his chair back and stands.

“See you there.” I shove a quarter slice of toast into my mouth, not caring if I look like a slob.

I’m full enough by the time I force myself away from the dining room table. Thankfully, the tension between Chandler and I quickly melts when we’re together on the deck. The social stimulation seems to renew me—takes the edge off a bit. He’s flirty and sweet, the coldness from breakfast completely gone. There’s lots of subtle touching and laughing and just being human. When we’re together like this, his mystery house seems a lot less uninviting.

“Today’s session is going to be really intense,” he tells me as we finish up with the punching bag.

“Oh really? How so? Or am I not allowed to ask that?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes, already predicting his response.

“You’ll see. I just hope you’re able to handle it. Today is one of the main reasons you signed that consent form.” His smile is almost serpentine. “If you want to back out, I won’t blame you.”

“And then what, you’ll start over with a new model?” I pick up a towel from the floor and wipe the sweat from my brow.

“Yes,” he replies. “Would that bother you?”

“Immensely,” I confess. There’s no point in lying. Still, he seems taken aback by my answer.

“Why?” He stares at me intently.

I sigh, looking out over the river. “We’ve already done so much. I’ve let you...” my voice trails off. He’s probably thinking that I was going to say that I let him take my virginity, but what I was really going to say is a lot more personal to me. Too personal to tell him. I look at him finally, showing him that I mean my words. “I want to take this all the way.”

He steps up to me, sliding a hand around my waist to draw me to him. He gazes down at me, making me feel small as his broad frame blocks out the sun. “All the way, huh? Are you sure you can handle all the way with me?”

I poke his chest, pressing my fingertip hard against the firm muscle there. “I can handle anything you throw my way.” I’m not sure if it’s a lie or not, but I’d rather play the tough card.

“You’re something else.” He smiles, brushing a few strands of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail away from my face. “Something amazing.” Chandler kisses my forehead, and I swoon from his sweet words.

And like that, I’m in love with him all over again, willing to do whatever he wants, no matter what he wants. I am his, and he is mine, if only for a little while.

We part ways to shower, and as I’m changing, I wonder if we’ll be shedding clothes again before the next mystery room. Just in case, I put on the bare minimum, a yellow sundress and underwear. No bra. I pair it with black flats so that I can slip them off easily.

When I meet Chandler back in the dining room fifteen minutes later, I’m completely blown away by his attire. My jaw hinges open as I round the corner and see him standing there in tight leather pants and a long-sleeved fishnet shirt. Holy sexy. My engines instantly rev, my panties growing moist. He’s like a fetish fantasy in the flesh.

For the first time since coming here, I have a pretty good idea of what we’re going to do. I’m not sure if I want to be right, though. The whole BDSM thing is both exciting and scary to me. I don’t fear giving him control; I do that most of the time already. I fear the pain of what he might want to do to me.

“You’re taking me to a dungeon today, aren’t you?” I ask as I flank his side to head into the hallway.

“Don’t spoil the surprise.” He smirks.

“I knew it,” I say almost triumphantly. Wow, I sound way too excited about this. Maybe I’m looking forward to it more than I thought.

We stop outside of a room, and Chandler takes a deep breath as he pulls his keycard from his pocket. For the first time ever, he looks nervous. “I need you to wait out here because there’s going to be a bit of preparation for this scene.”

“Alright.” I bite my bottom lip as nervousness sloshes in the pit of my stomach.

Chandler opens the door and slips inside, barely allowing me a peek into the room before he disappears. From what I could see, it looks like a normal room. There’s carpet and furniture. I caught a glimpse of a bed, but not much else.

He emerges with his hands full. The hair on the back of my neck bristles as I look at the collar with the attached leash and the ball gag that he’s holding.

“Emma,” he says my name to get my attention. My eyes fly up to meet his. There’s a stern seriousness to his expression that makes me feel weak in the knees. “In this room, you will have no power. You will be my sex toy, and I’ll do whatever I want to you. Some of it is going to hurt. A lot of it is going to be uncomfortable. This is not BDSM. This is me using you the way I see fit without your consent. The only consent you’re allowed to give me is agreeing to do this. This is your last chance to back out. There are no safety words, but I promise I won’t cause any permanent physical damage.”

Holy shit, is he serious? The sloshing sensation in my stomach turns solid, twisting around in knots. Common sense tells me I should say no. He blatantly just said he’s going to hurt me. No sane woman would agree to this.

“How bad is it going to hurt?” I shift my weight, hoping he doesn’t shush me.

“That depends on your pain threshold. I don’t know what that is, so there’s no way to tell.”

It seems the no questions asked thing has gone out the window. That makes this all the more frightening. It makes it feel like maybe he’s scared of what he’s going to do to me, too.

I reach up to touch his face, gauging his reaction. “Can I trust you?”

He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yes.”

“Then take me all the way.” Even as I say it, I can feel the hesitation within.

“All the way,” he parrots with a smile.

I kiss his palm, praying I made the right decision. It’s this or I leave and it was all for nothing. I’ve come too far to bow out now.

“Are you ready to be my little fuck toy?” His eyes go dark with lust.

I meet his gaze, challenging him. “Use me, sir.”

“Your wish is my command.” He reaches up to place the collar around my neck. I shiver as he fastens it in place, feeling my freedom fading away. The sensuality in his voice already has me yearning to be with him. If I can just hold on to my desire, then maybe this won’t be so bad. “Open for me, beautiful.” Chandler brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.

I obey, and he slips the ball gag into my mouth. It tastes like plastic and has a rubber feel to it but is firm for the most part. It won’t crack my teeth, but I can’t really bite down into it. Just a few seconds of having it in my mouth and my jaw begins to ache. Let the pain begin, I think as he finally opens the door for me to step inside.

Chandler leads me by the leash into the room, closing the door behind us. While I wait for him, my eyes wander. This isn’t what I had expected at all. It looks almost like a hotel room. There’s a bed with a chaise, a table, a few chairs and a sofa. It’s not a dungeon at all. Just a room.

“On your knees,” he tells me.

I kneel before him, waiting for further instructions. He rounds me, sitting in one of the chairs to pull off his boots. Then he stands again to take off his pants. I watch him lecherously, my mouth watering as he slides his black boxer briefs down and his cock springs out fully erect. Part of me is wondering why he bothered wearing clothes at all if he was just going to take them off the second he entered the room, but who am I to judge. He still looks sinfully gorgeous in just the fishnet shirt.

He lowers himself down onto the chair again, legs splayed. His gaze is predatory as he stares at me, giving his dick a few lazy strokes. “Come here.” He motions with his finger. When I start to get up, he clarifies, “Crawl.”

I nod, crawling until I’m between his legs. My dress gets caught beneath my knees once, making me look clumsy. I cringe internally, wanting to look sexy for him. Always sexy.

He reaches behind me and unclasps the ball gag. When he pulls it from my mouth, a string of saliva follows. It’s embarrassing how much there is, as if I was drooling over watching him. My jaw instantly feels better with the thing removed.

I give his cock a hungry glance. My God, this whole situation is hot. I never thought I could get so turned on by the thought of a man using me. But the fact that this isn’t some scary BDSM dungeon has put my mind at ease. There doesn’t appear to be anything in here that can hurt me besides Chandler’s weapon of pussy destruction. The ball gag was more of a discomfort than anything. I can definitely handle this.

Chandler grabs the base of his dick, pointing the tip towards my mouth. I don’t even need to ask what he wants. I don’t wait for him to tell me either. I simply wrap my lips around him and groan, savoring his masculine flavor.

When I move to stroke him, he takes my hands and flattens my palms on his lower stomach. It’s a silent queue that he just wants me to use my mouth. I’m amazed at how in sync I already feel with him—like I know exactly what he wants without him having to say a word.

I happily take him all the way to the back of my throat, slurping on him like he’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. When he’s not watching me intently, he rests his head back and closes his eyes, lazily enjoying the blowjob. His hand is wrapped around the leash, and he slowly twines it around his fingers. It’s not until I need to take a break from sucking on him that I understand why.

“Did I tell you you could stop?” He shoots me a cutting glance, tugging me back down onto his cock. When I try to emerge again, he fists his hand in my hair and forces me down. It’s aggressive but sexy, and as soon as I realize I’m not allowed a break, I suck through the pain, trying my best to relax my muscles as I bob up and down on him, the blowjob quickly becoming sloppy.

He moans in approval only a second before I feel his ankle hooking around the back of my neck. He presses me down farther than I’ve ever taken him in before. My gag reflex gives way as he pushes past my threshold of tolerance, and I choke around him. Still, he doesn’t let me up until tears have cascaded down my cheeks and landed on his skin. It’s the first true bite of pain I’ve felt from being with him, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s just a taste of what’s to come.

I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands, shooting up to suck in a few deep breaths. Chandler’s smirk is absolutely wicked. He looks as if he’s won some contest I didn’t even know we were participating in. I won’t let him think he wore me down, though. Not yet. I said all the way, and I meant it. I’ll show him what I’m made of.

Greedily, I take him into my mouth again, sucking and slurping as if I’m damned determined to make him come just by blowing him. That would show him, the cocky son of a bitch. What would he do if I ended his little scene prematurely? Would he be angry with me, or would it make him fall in love? I’ve heard that men tend to fall in love with women when the sex is good.

If he’s about to come, he’s giving me no sign. He moans from time to time—looks at me appreciatively—but no matter how much I suck, I don’t feel any closer to getting him off. It’s almost infuriating that he can make me orgasm with just a few touches, and yet I’m giving him everything I have, and nothing.

As if sensing my struggle, Chandler takes my hands and wraps them around the base of his shaft, circling his balls with my fingers. I cup him as I suck him off, trying to give his balls equal attention by fondling them. He tangles his hand in my hair, moving my head for me, and I wince from the mild burning sensation at my scalp.

“That’s a good girl.” He bucks his hips. “Suck my cock like you mean it. All the way down.”

I do mean it. I’ve meant it for the past five minutes. Hearing him call me his good girl does turn me on, though.

“Yeah, let me fuck your pretty little face.” He pushes me balls deep again, holding me in place until I choke. He definitely seems to be enjoying this. I wonder if he had been looking forward to today most of all. I also wonder what else he can possibly have planned for me. The week is almost halfway over, and his desires are becoming more and more twisted and bizarre as the days pass.

Chandler finally allows me a break, and I pant for breath, sitting back on my calves. He stands, urging me around him. I go to sit on the chair, but he plants a hand on my shoulder, keeping me on the floor. It’s my back he wants against the chair, I realize. He doesn’t want me to have any room to escape him.

With a hand in my hair, he slides his slick glans across my lips. My throat still hasn’t recovered, but I know I have no choice but to give him everything he wants. I open for him, and I learn the true meaning of face fucking.

He’s not gentle. Not in the slightest. There are times I think I might suffocate. Times I think my throat will be sore for days from having his thick helmet spearing into it. Every few strokes, he pulls me off of him to catch a gulp of breath, but it’s merely a tease. A mix of saliva and pre-seed is smeared across my lips and dribbling down my chin. There’s no way he could paint this without it looking crude and tasteless. What exactly is he trying to accomplish?

“Spit,” he tells me. “You’re making a mess.” As if it’s my fault.

I do what I’m told, feeling like I’m drowning in buckets of both him and me. My dress is wet and sticky and uncomfortable. He directs me down to suck on his balls. It’s a welcome reprieve from having my throat spread. But much like when he allows me to come up for air, it’s short-lived.

I bob on his cock a few more times, feeling like a sex doll, my holes the only things he cares about. And then finally there’s a break in the clouds, and he moves away from me, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of nipple clamps with a chain connecting them. I suck in an apprehensive breath as he approaches me with them. This is going to hurt, too.

This room is deceptive. Seemingly innocent. What else is hidden in the drawers and closet, I wonder.

“Off with the dress.” Chandler unhooks the leash from my collar so that I can pull my dress over my head. When I look around for where to put it, he takes it from me, balls it in his fist, and tosses it across the room. Then he cups one of my breasts, holding it up to slowly put the clamp on my nipple.

I whimper from the pain. Holy hell. The burning from the crushing of sensitive nerves is almost unbearable. Thankfully, my body seems to adapt quickly. Or it goes numb. I can’t really tell. All I know is that the worst part is when he lets the clamps bite into my tender flesh. At least, I think that’s the worst part until Chandler tugs on the chain. Everything goes red as pain shoots through my nipples. It’s so intense that I cry out.

He smirks sadistically. “Oh no, we’ll have none of that.”

He picks up the ball gag from where he laid it on the chair earlier and lifts it to my mouth, urging me to open. I give him a pleading look but obey. My anxiety level is slowly rising. I’m bordering on fearful of what he’s going to do to me next.

Just bear this. One scene, and you won’t have to do it again.

He slips the ball gag into my mouth and fastens it around my head. A familiar aching assaults my jaw. Haven’t I had my mouth open long enough? It’s apparent that Chandler does not care about my comfort in here. Would he have made me wear the gag again if I hadn’t cried out? This feels like a punishment.

With the gag in place, he grabs the chain connecting my nipples again. “Up,” he tells me as he gives it a gentle tug. Pain shoots through me again, and I don’t bother trying to mask my vocalizations. He can’t shush me any more than he already has.

I stand, and he leads me over to the chaise by my leash and the chain between my breasts. I try my best to keep up with him so that the pulling on my nipples is less. Knowing what I’ll feel if I don’t is good motivation to stay right on his heels.

“Can you do the splits?” he asks.

It seems like an odd question. I nod, wondering what he expects from me now. Whatever the case, it looks like my short stint in gymnastics is going to be paying off yet again.

“I want you to do the splits...on that.” He points to the chaise.

I give it a queer look. There’s nothing spectacular about the piece of furniture. It’s just wood and padding with a slight dip in the center. I can already tell this is going to be uncomfortable, but I do as I’m told anyway.

Chandler leaves me to go to the chest of drawers, opening up another drawer and pulling out some leather straps. When he returns, he fastens one around each thigh and the chaise to keep me in place. I lean forward, my arms hanging off the edge and my elbows digging into the padding to keep me upright. If not for the straps around my thighs, I feel like I could fall at any moment.

Chandler takes off his shirt, tossing it aside. Then he returns to the chest of drawers, pulling open yet another drawer and extracting a flogger. There’s no doubt in my mind now that there’s something kinky in every one of those drawers.

I brace myself as he stands behind me, giving the flogger a few cursory swings before it finally makes contact. I expect it to hurt, but he uses very little pressure. It feels like a thousand bunched up leather tongues licking at my back. There’s the tiniest sting, but I find it oddly satisfying, like a distraction from everything else I’m feeling: the soreness of my throat, the straining of my thigh muscles. I’ve never hurt in more places at the same time.

My thighs quiver as I fight to keep my ass on the chaise. I can feel my body sliding, and my fear of falling steals my attention, making me fight extra hard to maintain my position.

Halfway through the flogging, Chandler takes a break to rip off my underwear. I would be upset if they weren’t a cheap pair. I didn’t go out of my way to wear something sexy today, knowing he probably wouldn’t give them half a glance before asking me to take them off.

“Put your ass in the air for me,” he tells me.

There’s no way to do that in my current position, so I wiggle until my knees are planted on the chaise and arch my back, hoping I won’t earn a punishment for coming out of the splits. My thighs rejoice from not being spread so awkwardly. There’s no doubt my entire body is going to be sore tomorrow from all of this.

Chandler uses more pressure on my ass, and I close my eyes, finding that I actually enjoy it. It’s like a soothing spanking, cooler than a hand, though the coolness of the lashes is offset by the heat of the sting they cause.

The chaise is so short widthwise that I’m always falling off of it in some way. With my knees bent on top of it, there’s no room for my upper torso, so I end up leaning over it until I have to place my palms on the floor to keep stabilized. It doesn’t seem like Chandler planned this part very well. Or maybe he didn’t care what I’d have to go through to please him. At least he doesn’t seem upset by all of my wiggling.

My body jolts as the flogger changes positions and I feel a light slap against my pussy. “Oh God,” I moan around the gag, tasting the first real pleasure since I entered this room. The lashes are like little tongues, each licking at me in a different spot, each trying to tap at my clit and cause a surge of mini-contractions.

Chandler uses just the right amount of pressure, dialing it down to the point that the sting only adds to my enjoyment of the act. I want him to do it faster so that I can come, but he seems content with keeping me tortuously on the edge.

“Please, more, sir,” I mumble, hoping he’ll get the queue. He picks up the pace ever so slightly, but it just drives me crazy; it doesn’t do the job.

“You look like you need something more,” he teases. I can’t see his face, but I can hear the smirk in his voice.

Chandler tosses the flogger aside. Then he gives my pussy a gentle slap before stepping up behind me. For a moment, I think he’s going to switch to spanking my cunt, but then I feel his tip pressing between my folds. I suck in a breath as he slowly enters me, moaning as I drown in the sensation of being filled by him.

This is what I had really been waiting for. The best part of being in this room with him.

He thrusts a few times before stopping. “You know, I’ve done a lot of work in here today. I think you should take over for a while.”

I can only guess at what he wants, so I try moving my hips back to take him in. My thighs burn from the effort, and I bitterly think that he’s not the one who gave a ten-minute blowjob a little while ago.

“That’s a good girl. You’ve got this. Take all of me in.” He hisses when I slide back on him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t let me have control for long. He places a foot on the chaise next to me and pushes in balls deep. I groan around the ball gag, thinking about how much better it feels when he does all the work. He pistons into me at a slow, steady pace. All the way out. All the way in. Filling me to the hilt with each thrust. I move my hips in time with him, though the effort is minimal. He rewards me with a soft slap on the ass before clutching onto my waist and driving into me so hard that I whimper.

“Oh yes. Oh shit.” I sink my teeth into the ball gag, feeling my first orgasm overwhelming me. My clit throbs, my pussy moving back to suck him all in as my muscles clench around him.

“Jesus Christ, Emma, you’re so fucking hot when you come.” His fingers dig into my flesh as he pulls us so tightly together that my cunt hurts from it. It’s the good kind of hurt, though. The hurt of being so deliciously full of his big cock.

“You seem to enjoy being my little fuck toy.” Chandler places his palm on the small of my back.

I blush as there’s a new sensation, his thumb pushing at my pucker. Anal has never been something I’ve wanted to try. I’ve always thought it was gross. Just the fact that he’s touching me back there makes me feel dirty. I want to press my hips away from him, but then I remember that I left my consent at the door. In here, it’s anything he wants.

You only live once, Emma. Just go with it.

My breath hitches as he pushes his thumb into me. All the while, he never stops thrusting. I clench my eyes shut as he fingers my ass, moving from his thumb to his forefinger, probing gently. It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever felt. It’s just...strange, like I know his digits don’t belong there.

Every time he sticks one in, I feel extra full. I actually kind of like that it makes his dick feel even bigger. Not that he needs extra girth. It’s really the only pleasurable thing I garner from having his fingers in my ass, though, so I just focus on what feels good to get through the experience.

“How about we make you more comfortable?” Chandler pulls out of me, leaving all my holes except for my mouth empty.

He unfastens the straps keeping me bound to the chaise, and my body practically slides off of it onto the floor. I feel like melted wax. My muscles don’t even want to work anymore.

“Up.” He places his fingertip under my chin, urging me to stand. I’m more than grateful that he doesn’t go for the chain attached to the nipple clamps. My nipples went numb a long time ago, but I’m pretty sure that a good tug on that chain would bring them back to life in all the worst ways.

As if reading my mind, Chandler grabs one of the clamps. I give him a pleading look, muttering, “Please,” around the ball gag.

His expression is absolutely wicked. “You want to be more comfortable, don’t you?”

“Please, sir,” I start to say, but before I can even finish getting the words out, he jerks the clamp off of my nipple, sending hellfire through my chest.

“One more to go,” he says, pulling the other off midway through my scream. I choke on my own breath as a second scream tries to follow the first before it’s finished.

That hurt way more than putting them on. Way more than the tugging on the chain. For a while, all I feel is fire across my chest. There seems to be no way to quench it. All I can do is wait until it starts to fade, breathing heavily as tears stream down my cheeks.

“There now. Isn’t that better?” Chandler sets the nipple clamps on the chest of drawers before coming back to me to unfasten the ball gag from around my head.

“You’re evil,” I tell him as soon as I’m able to speak again.

“Do you really want to backtalk me right now?” He caresses my cheek, making me shudder internally from the intensely sensual gaze he’s giving me. “This can go back on, you know.” He holds the ball gag up to me. “Now are you going to be my good girl?”

I stare at the ball gag, hating it. My jaw aches so badly that I don’t think I could handle having it back in my mouth. “Yes, sir. I’ll be your good girl.” I nod, never taking my eyes off of the gag, praying it just disappears.

“That’s good.” Chandler bends to kiss me on the forehead. “Now go lie on the bed on your back with your legs spread.”

“Yes, sir.” I wait until he’s walked around me before I head to the bed to take my position. It is definitely tons more comfortable on the bed not having to worry about falling off. Tons more comfortable without the nipple clamps making me worry that if I move wrong pain is going to surge through me. Tons more comfortable not having my mouth stretched open to the max. I never knew how much I could appreciate just lying on a bed, even if it is in an awkward spread eagle position.

Chandler returns to me with two pairs of cuffs in his hands. My position is made a lot less comfortable when he cuffs each wrist to each ankle, forcing my legs to strain open once more. Oh well. It’s a small discomfort compared to everything else we were doing.

He grabs my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the bed. My ass is practically hanging off, and once more I worry that I might fall.

“Are you ready for a little reward?” Chandler asks.

“Yes, sir.”

He places two fingers between my pussy lips and starts vibrating them, teasing my clit until I come. My God, is he ever good with his hands. He’s good with his everything. I whimper and breathe as the orgasm swirls through me, my toes curling.

Reward is good. I like reward. And while I’m not sure what I did to earn it, I want more.

“And now for my reward.” Chandler lines up his cock, pushing into my spread pussy.

I groan as I take him in, thinking about how incredible it feels. He reaches forward to grope my breasts, not being very gentle about it, but I don’t care. I’m still stuck in reward mode. This is a reward to me, too, having his hands on me, his thick dick inside of me.

“And now for something more.” He pulls out, sliding his glans between my pussy and my asshole before resting it against my pucker.

My body instantly tenses, my asshole clamping shut to the best of its ability. “Please, don’t.”

“Ball gag?” He glances back at the chest of drawers. Those two words shut me up. “Try to relax, and it won’t hurt as much. If you fight me, I might make you bleed.”

I’m worried he’s going to make me bleed anyway, he’s so damn big.

I want to rest my head back, but I also want to see what he’s doing. Craning my neck to watch ends up winning. No matter how much he tells me to relax, it’s not going to happen. This is never something I wanted. The fact that I’m letting him do it definitely means that I’m going all the way with him. In one week, I’ve allowed him to violate all my holes. He better feel pretty damn special.

“Stop fighting me,” he tells me as he starts to push forward.

My head falls back as my body starts to give way. Discomfort is an understatement for what I feel. And what follows is a stretching sensation that threatens to rip me in two.

Chandler stops pressing forward and pulls back instead, though he doesn’t come all the way out.

“Fuck.” I bite the inside of my mouth, trying to breathe past the burning sensation.

He begins moving again, thrusting slowly. Whatever lubrication our bodies provide helps to ease the pain a bit, but it doesn’t completely go away. Oddly, I feel fuller now than when he was in my pussy. A pressing fullness that I can’t decide if I like or not, but I’m teetering towards the not side.

“Your ass is so tight,” Chandler hisses, staring at our joined parts. He pushes all the way in, and I whimper. Too deep. Way too deep.

“I don’t think I can handle much more of this,” I confess.

“Just a little more. Handle it a little longer...for me.” His eyes meet mine, and I can’t possibly say no. Because there’s not just lust behind his eyes; there’s affection. There are things I’ve seen throughout the week that make me want to believe he cares about me. That make me want to believe that after this is all over, he’s not just going to kick me to the curb. I have to believe that to get through this, even if it’s a lie.

“Just a little more.” I surrender, hoping that he’ll stay true to his word. Anal is definitely not my thing.

“Let’s make this a little better for you.” His hand returns to my clit, pinching it gently to redirect my focus. Locking my gaze with his keeps me stabilized as he continues to fuck my ass, picking up the pace. His thumb toys with my clit, giving it a deep massage. I somehow find a happy place with the combined stimulation. The pain melts away into a deep pressure that’s tolerable, though not quite enjoyable.

“Please make me come, sir.”

Challenge accepted. His fingers move over my clit with the same speed that he pumps into me. I feel full and overwhelmed, my pleasure ebbing and flowing from the conflicting physical stimulus. He cups my breast, tweaking my erect nipple to add the last extra bit that I need to reach the summit of bliss.

“Oh my God.” I come, all my muscles clenching at once.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Chandler’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he slows his bucking, savoring the feeling of my contractions.

As if to reward me further, he pulls out of my ass and shoves his cock back into my pussy for the remainder of my climax. It’s absolute heaven.

“Thank you, sir,” I breathe, lost in the afterglow of my orgasm.

He waits until my contractions have subsided before he repositions me again, allowing me to close my legs and lie on my side. It’s the most comfortable I’ve been since we came in here, not having to strain in any way.

“Please put it in me.” I give him a seductive look as he lines up behind me.

“You want my cock?” He smirks.

“Yes.” I nod.

“Is this pussy all mine?” Chandler slaps my ass and pain blooms across my skin.

“No one else’s.” I wet my lips with my tongue, feeling like all my natural lubrication has gone between my legs.

He slides into me with ease, resting his hands on my waist as he begins thrusting. The pressure of having my body folded feels exquisite. It must be good for him too because he moans lightly with each buck of his hips. I crane my neck to look at him, longing for eye contact, but he seems content to watch where we connect. His breathing quickly becomes ragged as he picks up the pace. I squeeze my muscles around him, having been with him enough to know what’s coming. He is. Shortly.

“Oh yeah, baby, just like that,” I tell him breathily, feeling my clit pulse from knowing he’s about to climax.

I keep my eyes locked on his face, wanting to watch him come. A few more quick thrusts, and he’s pulling out and shooting his pleasure onto my ass and pussy.

To my surprise, he pushes into me again. The heat and wetness from his semen drives into me followed by a twinge of panic that he could get me pregnant. It’s way too sexy for me to ruin the moment by arguing about it now, though.

“Mm.” He bucks twice before pulling out and moving to untie me.

I exhale deeply, knowing that our scene is over, waiting patiently for him to finish up so that I can get dressed. The sadness I felt from the end of our coupling the past two times seems a bit less today, perhaps because I know what’s about to happen. As soon as I’m unbound, he’s going to start getting dressed and we’ll part ways, not to meet up again until dinner.

“Are you alright?” he asks as he goes to find his clothes.

“I’m fine,” I reply shortly. No permanent damage. Not to my body, at least.

“So what did you think?” Chandler pulls his pants on and then reaches for his shirt.

“It was...different.” To be honest, I still haven’t processed everything yet. There were parts of the scene that I enjoyed a lot. Others not so much.

“You have never done anything like that before?” He glances at me before straightening the shirt down his torso.

“No.”

I expect him to question me further, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just walks past me to the door. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“See you.” I nod to him before he leaves.

Once he’s gone, I blow out a deep breath and rub the back of my neck, planting my ass on the bed for a few minutes. This seems like it’s becoming a routine. Fuck and recover. It bothers me that I feel so great when we’re together yet so empty afterward. The yearning for him is still there, but his leaving is a cold reality that what I want from him is never going to happen. This is just sex. Just his little art project. I’m a tool which he’s using to make his next creation. Nothing more.

I don’t bother getting dressed. I simply grab my clothes and walk down the hall to my room naked, not caring if Susan comes out. I don’t expect her to emerge. She’s probably gone into hiding now that she knows I’m her responsibility. Chandler’s words from yesterday ring in my mind about how she’s supposed to help me with anything I need. When I brought up that she was a no-show, he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Sometimes I think he just doesn’t care about me at all.

You’re a tool. Nothing more. Those words sting, but they’re starting to feel truer the more time that passes.

I take a bath and curl up in bed, resigning myself to sleep. There’s not much to do here anyway. When I wake, I put on clothes and go raid the kitchen. Lunch seems to always be sandwiches. Susan has been setting them out for me in the dining room, but I never see her.

Thankfully, the kitchen isn’t off limits. Not satisfied with today’s offering of tuna on rye, I rummage through the refrigerator and cabinets.

Chandler was right, it’s fully stocked with just about everything you can imagine. I make myself a grilled cheese sandwich with the assortment of cheeses available. It looks far better than it tastes.

I decide to leave the dishes for Susan to do later. If she’s not going to wait on me like she’s supposed to, she can at least clean up my mess. It’s a bitchy thing to do. After all, it’s not like I don’t have copious amounts of time to clean up after myself. But I get some smug satisfaction out of being mean to her.

After eating, I mix myself a cocktail with the liquor from one of the cabinets and go out to sit on the deck. It’s highly unlikely that Chandler will need me again today, so there’s no reason why I can’t catch a buzz. Besides, it will help to relax me and make me feel less imprisoned here.

I hang out on the deck for countless hours, sipping my drink until the sun sets and I see the lights from inside the house shining down on me. I catch a glimpse of Susan on her way to the kitchen, and I smirk to myself. If she’s pissed that I left her extra work, she doesn’t come out and confront me about it. Maybe she’ll bring it up during dinner. I doubt it, though.

Finally, it’s time to come in.

I arrive for dinner early, sitting patiently while Susan puts plates of food in front of me. She never mentions the dishes.

“How long have you known Chandler?” I ask, trying to get something out of her. Her dark eyes meet mine for a moment before she continues her work, ignoring me. Bitch. I know she heard me. Maybe this is how she’s getting back at me for the dishes. Silence seems a bit petty, though. “What is this stuff?” I gesture to the food. There’s a plate of multi-colored rice with bits of chicken in it. There’s a bowl of plain rice, and then another bowl with some orange sauce with chunks in it. Again, she doesn’t respond.

It’s not until Chandler shows up and I ask the question again that I’m informed it’s chicken biryani and chicken tikka masala.

“She’s very culturally diverse in her cooking,” I note. “The first night we had Japanese. Yesterday was French. Tonight is Indian food. Is tomorrow Italian?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Chandler smiles as he takes a spoon and starts scooping rice onto his plate.

I wait until he’s served himself before I take my turn. “What do you do all day when you’re not around?”

“No questions.”

It’s starting to seem like his easy out answer, and it’s quickly getting on my nerves. “It’s hard to have a conversation when I’m not allowed to ask you things.”

“You just have to ask me the right things.” He tears off a piece of naan bread and dips it in his tikka masala.

“What are the right things?” I watch him stuff the bread into his mouth.

“You’ll know when you ask them,” he tells me once he’s finished chewing.

“You’re very mysterious.” I sigh, trying to decide which I want to sample first, the biryani or the masala.

“It’s just my nature.” He digs into the biryani, eating like a man starved.

“The theme of your exhibit—”

“We’re not going to talk about that.” He cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

My jaw clenches as I try to figure out what’s safe to discuss. Obviously, not his art. I can’t help but ask the questions I desperately want answers to, though. “Is it all going to be nudes? Are people going to see us...having sex?”

Chandler stops chewing, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I promise to paint you tastefully.”

I had already figured out that the theme is sex-related. Why else would we be having so much of it? I just hope he doesn’t do anything that I’ll be embarrassed for my parents to see. I know they’ll be getting free tickets to the exhibit along with me. I’m not sure I want them to go if all the images are going to be of Chandler sticking it to me. My father might try to kill him.

“I’m not sure my parents should go to the exhibit.” My stomach twists as I think of everything that could possibly go wrong.

“Why not?” Chandler starts piling his plate with seconds.

“My dad owns a shotgun.” I screw my face.

Chandler chuckles, sitting back for a moment. “Are you worried about my safety?”

“He’d probably aim for your dick,” I add.

“Well, with a shotgun, I imagine he’d hit a lot more than that.”

The smirk he’s wearing is so sexy that it causes forbidden feelings to well up inside of me. Just his tool, I have to remind myself.

“You weren’t worried about angry parents when you started this?” I scoop up a bite of chicken biryani with my spoon.

“Why would I? You’re a consenting adult. It’s your body. You have a legal right to sign it away. This isn’t about your parents, Emma. It’s about you,” he says matter-of-factly, and it’s clear to me that the concern never crossed his mind at all. “Would you like something to help you sleep after dinner?”

I lock my gaze with his, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Does he know that I nap every day? I suppose he would since there are probably cameras in my room.

“Susan made it too strong again last night,” I inform him. “I’d like to mix it myself tonight.”

“I’ll do it for you,” he offers, standing and balling his napkin up on top of the table. “A half dose, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply hesitantly, wondering why he won’t let me mix it myself. I want to ask, but I also don’t want him to think that I don’t trust him.

I finish my meal while he disappears into the kitchen to make my cocktail. When he returns to me, I stare at the glass as he hands it over. The contents are clear, so I can’t tell if he lowered the dosage or not.

“Thanks,” I tell him, clasping the glass in both hands.

“I suppose I should have delivered that to your room.” He says, looking down at the glass as if he wishes he could take it back from me.

“I’ll wait until I get to my room before I drink it.” I push my chair away from the table, getting ready to leave.

“Sleep sweet tonight, Emma.” He smiles at me.

As I walk down the hall, I can’t take my eyes off of the glass. Once in my room, I give it a good whiff. It smells like water. The other ones did, too.

I take a sip. It tastes like water, too. Flavorless. Odorless. What are they putting in this thing? No normal sleep medicine that I know of is both flavorless and odorless...unless it’s a Rohypnol. Would Chandler really use a date rape drug to put me to sleep? Given the strange occurrences at night and my inability to fully wake up during them, it’s the only thing I can come up with.

And then the realization hits me that I don’t trust Chandler. Why wouldn’t he have let me mix it myself if it was normal sleep medicine? It just doesn’t make sense.

I know I won’t sleep without it. But I also know that I requested a half dose and there’s no way for me to tell what’s actually in the glass.

Learning from the previous two nights, I change into my nightshirt before deciding to drink the cocktail. Then I just drink half of it and pour the rest down the drain in the bathroom. If he decided to use a full dose on me, I can negate it by only drinking half.

I sit on the side of the bed, waiting for the unnatural sleepiness to bowl me over. It seems to come on a lot more slowly than before and a lot less intense. I’m actually able to crawl under the covers and relax a little before the medicine lulls me into a deep and dreamless sleep.