I probably shouldn't believe him, but I do, and so I hear myself ask haltingly, "What should I do...so you won't hurt me?"
"It's rather simple, really."
I truly don't want to think he's crazy, but he has to be to say such a thing. Nothing about being kidnapped can ever be simple—-
"All you have to do is allow yourself to enjoy my touch."
—-as that.
I stare at him in shock, and he stares back at me unflinchingly.
"You c-can't be serious," I stammer.
"But I am."
"You abducted me!"
"An unorthodox way for two people to meet," he says dismissively, "but it happens."
A disbelieving laugh spills past my lips. Did he really just say that? He practically made it sound like abduction was just another form of meet-cute!
I slowly shake my head. "I just can't—-"
"No, my dove. What you really mean is you've been made to think you mustn't...but you can." He leans forward, and I stiffen involuntarily even as my heart starts to race. "It's not the world I abducted, but you."
It's like having a devil speak my most shameful thoughts out loud, and I'm tempted to cover my ears so I don't hear anything else.
"It's not the world's fate that hangs in the balance," he whispers, "but yours. It's not the world I'm going to punish...but you."
His thumb touches my lower lip at his last word, and it's all I can do not to cry out.
"So tell me, my dove. Why must you make yourself suffer pointlessly?"
Lust slithers under my skin at what my captor is suggesting. I never imagined he'd say such a thing, but now that he has—-
"I didn't kidnap you just to look at you, and you know that."
I am confused and appalled.
"I kidnapped you to claim every orifice of your body."
Ashamed and enthralled.
He's my kidnapper, for God's sake, but he truly expect me to allow myself to enjoy his touch.
The very idea is outrageously reprehensible. It's unacceptable in every society and impermissible when considering every moral standard we're supposed to uphold.
What he's proposing is utterly indecent, and while I know I mustn't ever say yes—-
His words are also like poison, and the more I try not to think of what he's saying, the more the idea ruthlessly takes root.
I feel his eyes start roaming my body, and it's all I can do not to cry out as I feel my entire being turn into a battlefield under his gaze. I can already feel the sinuously obscene tendrils of his words relentlessly conquering and defiling everything in its path: they rub erotically against the nerves in my brain until my thoughts scatter, and they wrap seductively around my heart until it's creamy, red-hot desire pumping out of its vessels. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to stem the rushing tide of its poison, but it's too late: those lust-fueled tendrils have already snaked all the way down to my womanhood—-
Oh God, forgive me.
Mr. Sinister's nostrils flare when he sees me suddenly snap my legs close. Triumph glitters in his gaze, and I nearly whimper because it means he knows his words have successfully infiltrated my senses.
Fight it off, Sara.
"Which is what exactly?"
"I'll..." I draw a shaky and uneven breath. "I'll allow myself to enjoy it, but...before...before you punish me..."
His gaze narrows. "Go on."
Vanilla with chocolate-coated chili, I mentally chant to myself. Just think of all of this as vanilla with chocolate-coated chili.
I take one last deep breath before blurting out, "I want to know about the woman in the video."