All I can do is feel, and what I feel now is the heavy aching sensation that has enveloped my breasts, the heightened sensitivity of my nipples, and the sticky moisture that has made my inner folds thick and swollen.
All of this only says one thing—-
Beg.
And so I hear myself choke out, "Please."
My gaze meets my captor's.
"Please suck my tits."
Triumph glitters in his eyes.
"Good girl."
And then he was giving me what I wanted.
What I had begged for.
His hand gripping my swollen flesh hard as his mouth swallowed my nipple whole.
I cried out, and it made him suckle on my nipple harder.
My breast is so small I think he must have half of it in his mouth by now, and I realize this is as close as it might ever get to being devoured.
My breast is inside my kidnapper's mouth.
My nipple is being sucked and licked by my kidnapper.
These are the things I have always fantasized about but never dared to pray for.
Things that are now happening.
And oh God, forgive me, but I love it.
Even though I know it's wrong—-
Even though I know that many factors may be at play here, and that my feelings may be a product of my early exposure to porn or that it might even be Stockholm syndrome already hard at work—-
I am way past the point of caring, and I can no longer deny the truth.
My kidnapper squeezing my breast and suckling my nipple brings me pleasure—-
So, so much please, oh God—-
That when he suddenly lifts his head, and I am consumed with the aching and burning need to have more—-
His gaze locks with mine, and it's then I know.
The restraints were never there to lock me into place.
The restraints were there so that when the right time comes, and it has come because that time is now, Mr. Sinister will be able to drive his point home, and I will be powerless to hide from the truth.
The restraints are there to keep me...from holding on to him.
"You see it now," Mr. Sinister rasps, "don't you?"
Tears rush down my cheeks as I realize what he's waiting for me to say.
"Tell me," he orders.
I shake my head with a sob. "I can't—-"
He lowered her to the edge of the bed, but because it had been built for his size, and she was quite the dainty little thing, he was amused to see that her legs actually ended up dangling a few inches off the carpeted floor.
Pulling away, he crouched down on one knee, and as soon as their gazes met, his Sara cleared her throat quite loudly before blurting out—-
"What happens now?"
Ever the pragmatic planner, his Sara.
It was one of the many things he had learned from stalking her online, and it pleased him to know that being kidnapped hadn't changed this about her.