“That bad huh?” he said, but I knew his words held absolutely no sympathy for what he’d done. I sucked in air deeply when he removed the clamps from my body.

“I hate you!” I yelled. Though the words were muffled behind the gag, I knew he could make them out. He cupped my br**sts in both hands and gently massaged me.

“I hate you, Master,” he said with hungry lust lacing his voice.

He tweaked my ni**les playfully. I winced and I tried to shrink away from his touch.

“Sensitive?” he whispered softly in my ear. When I didn’t respond, he pinched them a little harder and a yelp broke past my lips. “Answer,” he said coolly.

“Yes, Master,” I whined. My anger with him had grown as the hours had passed. I’d convinced myself when he came to get me I would really give him a piece of my mind. Of course – it’s easy to be brave when the object of your fear isn’t holding your sore ni**les hostage.

“Good, Kitten,” he said. He placed his warm palms against my stiff little peaks and pressed softly to massage them as he also kneaded my br**sts. I moaned loudly. My head rolled to the side as he touched me exactly the way I needed to be touched. I never wanted the feeling to end.

His thigh pressed against the table near the top of my head as he worked his hands lower, from my br**sts, to my ribs, to my surprisingly sore hips. He rubbed softly, and I couldn’t help but moan and get lost in the surety of his hands, and in the clean, masculine smell emanating from his body, which inevitably leaned toward me. I thought about Felipe. I thought about the way he’d pressed his c**k against my lips, the way I’d so readily accepted him when I thought he had been Caleb.

Unwittingly, I undulated beneath Caleb’s hands, my body telling him what I couldn’t possibly say out loud. I needed him to make me come. He sighed audibly, and I knew he wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

I fought off the memory of what he’d told me after I’d offered him not only my body, but my heart. “You thought what? You thought offering me a little pu**y was going to make some kind of a difference?” I recoiled at the memory and tears stung behind my eyes. I was thankful for the blindfold. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I wanted him touching me anymore, but what choice did I have? Felipe’s options seemed far too extreme.

It occurred to me then, the one choice that was mine to make, was not to let him hurt me anymore, not where it mattered. My heart sank heavily in my chest for reasons I didn’t want to acknowledge…I had thought my confession should make some kind of a difference.

I was lost in my self-pitying thoughts when he pulled me back into reality by running his finger along the seam of my inflamed sex. I jerked in my bonds.

“Sensitive here too?” he said darkly, and began his practiced assault on my clit. I groaned sadly in response and nodded. “Aww, poor Kitten. Would you like me to let you come now?” Tears leaked from my eyes and were immediately absorbed by the blindfold. I nodded. His voice had taken on a sinister edge, he was enjoying this, and I was in a strange sort of misery. He shifted his position, coming around to my right as he stroked me at an easier angle.

“I want to hear you beg me,” he said and pulled the gag from my mouth. I rotated my jaw, trying to get it to feel normal again and finding it difficult. “Beg me,” he commanded. My heart raced at his steady touch, the tingling heat of impending orgasm spread through my body. If he stopped me this time, I would die. I was sure of it.

“I’m…I’m begging you,” I whispered. My voice was alien to my ears as I failed to keep my emotions out of my voice.

“I did think it was really cute when you said you loved me.”

The orgasm tore through me with a violence I don’t think even Caleb was expecting. I screamed at the top of my lungs and my body arched as much as it could in its restraints. Every part of me tingled, and throbbed, and burned with release. My thighs quivered, and my heart beat savagely in my chest, ears, and clit.

It washed over me in waves: my old life, meeting Caleb, my botched escape, Caleb’s kindness that first night he held me, his smile, his hands, his smell, his kiss, the spankings, the torture, my declaration of love, his reaction…his reaction…his cruel, f**king reaction. When the best and worst of it subsided my hips hit the table with a wet thud and I lie there crying, as any number of emotions ran wild in my body while the aftermath settled.

“Wow,” he whispered.

I was so tired. I hadn’t slept all night. Caleb was quiet and I was glad for it. I had nothing to say to him. Though, I thoroughly hoped he was done torturing me for a while and would allow me to finally get some sleep – alone.

I started to drift away while he went about un-strapping my thighs and legs. It was an odd thing to feel so drowsy and satiated, while at the same time, feeling jittery and anxious over being released. His warm palms touched my ribs and my drowsiness disappeared, but my anxiety mounted.

“How are your ribs feeling?” he asked, with a degree of thoughtfulness.

“A little sore,” I said, so softly, I almost doubted he heard.

“Is it bad?” He seemed concerned.

I hated when he was like this. I would prefer him to always be a cold-blooded bastard. At least then, I could forgive him for the things he did. Instead, he showed me bursts of his humanity. It was worse - knowing he knew the difference between kindness and cruelty and chose the baser of the two. I shook my head.

He undid the cuffs on my wrists and I at once tried to sit up. Not really as a show of defiance. It just seemed like the natural thing to do. My hips were agonizingly stiff and sore. It took Caleb’s awkward help to lift my legs out of the stirrups. After too many hours apart, I could hardly close them.

I sat for a moment, my legs dangling off the table and my hands over my br**sts. I hoped he wouldn’t remove the blindfold and I wouldn’t have to look into his eyes. He stood in front of me. Our bodies weren’t touching, but I felt him everywhere. Then the warmth of his fingers smoothed against my cheek, and something in my chest began to burn. Slowly, he pulled the blindfold away and I rubbed my puffy eyes as I adjusted to the soft light.

He looked gorgeous, as usual, though his customary smile was not present, only a look of seriousness. It occurred to me I must look like garbage, with my ratted hair, and puffy face. Meanwhile, Caleb stood in front of me – sexy as hell.

I couldn’t look him in the face. I rarely ever could. I focused on his lightweight button-up shirt, khaki pants, and casual shoes. I focused on his large hands as they reached up and rubbed my thighs. I let out a startled gasp he didn’t acknowledge.

“Are you hungry?” he asked ominously. I nodded, looking down into my lap. He slapped my thigh loudly and I had to fight every impulse to push him away. Heat crept up into my face, but I maintained my composure.

“Yes, Master,” I said, through clenched teeth. “I’m hungry.”

“Good,” he said, no humor in his voice. “You can get down on your knees and eat my cock.”

I stared at him incredulously for a moment, waiting for him to say something further – though what I expected him to say, I didn’t know. Strangely, the longer I looked at him, the more I became aware I was doing so without his permission. I also felt, as I often did, he could read my mind. I took a deep breath and looked away quickly, in the hopes he had not read too much. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his hands slowly reaching for his belt. A sense of impending doom spurred me into action and I reflexively placed my right hand over his.

“You aren’t going to whip me, are you?” I didn’t look up. My fingers trembled. If he wasn’t already, then I probably planted the idea in his mind. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Would you like me to?” he asked. I shook my head emphatically: No, I did not. “Then get your hands off of me. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” I retracted my hands and waited for him to speak. “Good. Now get down on your knees and put your hands in your lap. You’re not allowed to touch me.”

I swallowed hard and fortified myself to do as I was told. Avoiding his gaze, I attempted to lower myself from the table onto my shaky legs. My legs gave out, but Caleb reached out to steady me. I almost grabbed hold of him to stop myself from falling, but I managed to prevent the reflex and hung in his arms like a rag doll as he lowered me onto my knees.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He stood. “You know what, Kitten?” he said, “I think I will whip you. Ask me what for.”

My eyes were already misted over with fresh tears when I looked up at him. “Why?”

He smiled and shook his head, just before he grabbed the back of my head and pulled my hair hard enough to let me know I was in trouble. “How about for talking when you weren’t asked to speak, touching me as if you have the right, looking at me without being told, and most importantly, for consistently addressing me improperly.” He gripped my hair tight. I whined sharply behind my closed lips and my eyes reflexively shut. “Now, you tell me, Kitten, do you deserve to be punished?”

There could not possibly be any good answer to his question. Even silence would be thought of as another infraction. My mind raced to find a way out of the situation, but I knew the damage had been done.