Elena woke up bound, blindfolded, and somewhere she had never been before.

She was twenty-eight years old, and the last thing she remembered was locking her front door at nine o’clock on a Friday night, alone in her house — her husband Damion, thirty-two, working a double shift, not expected home until Sunday. She remembered the lights going out. She remembered a hand over her mouth. She remembered nothing after that.

Now she was on a bed in a dark room that smelled like dust and old wood. Her wrists were tied to the headboard with rope. Her ankles were tied to the footboard, her legs spread wide. A blindfold covered her eyes. She was naked — her clothes gone, her body bare and exposed and helpless.

She screamed.

— Shut up, — said a voice like gravel, low and mean, right beside the bed. — Scream again and I’ll gag you so hard you choke on it.

She went silent, trembling, her breath coming in short panicked gasps. Her heart was hammering so hard she could hear it in her ears.

— Good girl, — he said. — You’re going to be a good girl for me this weekend. Because you’re not leaving this room until I say so. And I don’t plan on saying so for a long, long time.

— Please, — she whispered. — Please, let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I swear —

— I know you won’t, — he said, and his hand closed over her breast, squeezing hard. — Because if you tell anyone, I’ll find you. And next time, there won’t be a bed. Understand?

She nodded frantically, tears leaking from under the blindfold.

— Please don’t hurt me —

— Oh, I’m going to hurt you, — he said, and the flat certainty in his voice made her whimper. — That’s the whole point. You’re mine now. Mine to use. Mine to fill. Say it.

— I’m — I’m yours — she gasped.

— Louder.

— I’m yours! — she cried, and hated the way her voice shook.

— Good, — he said, and his mouth closed over her nipple, biting down hard.

She cried out, arching off the bed, the ropes biting her wrists. He sucked her nipple brutally, his teeth scraping, while his hand kneaded her other breast, pinching and twisting. Her body betrayed her — her nipples hardening under his mouth, her pussy flooding hot and wet between her spread legs, even as terror screamed through her brain.

— Please, stop —

— No, — he said simply, and moved down her body.

His hands spread her thighs wider, and then his mouth was on her pussy with no warning at all. She screamed — it was too much, too sudden, too intense — his tongue spearing into her, his lips wrapping around her clit and sucking hard — and she bucked against the ropes, helpless, and the helplessness made it a hundred times hotter. She was already wet — she had been wet since she woke up, her body responding to the terror with shameful arousal — and he was drinking her like he was starving.

— Fuck — please — oh god —

— You taste like fear, — he growled against her folds. — I like it. Makes you taste sweeter.

He ate her ruthlessly. No tenderness, no mercy — just raw devouring hunger, his tongue plunging into her hole, his teeth grazing her clit just hard enough to make her yelp, his fingers joining in, two thick fingers pumping into her pussy while his mouth worked her clit. The bed was getting soaked beneath her. Her moans were high and desperate and continuous.

— I’m going to come — please — I’m going to —

He pulled his mouth away. She sobbed.

— Did I say you could come? — His voice was ice. — You come when I say. Not before. Do you understand?

— Yes — yes, I understand —

— Beg for it.

— Please let me come, please, I need it, please —

— Good girl, — he said, and went back to her clit, sucking hard, and she came violently, her pussy throbbing against his mouth, her come flooding out, and he drank it all, his tongue working her through the aftershocks while she sobbed into the blindfold.

He moved up her body, and she felt his weight settle over her, his skin hot against hers, his cock — huge, thick, rock hard — pressing against her entrance.

— This pussy is mine now, — he said, and drove into her in one brutal thrust.

Elena screamed. He was enormous, stretching her wide, hitting so deep, and he started pounding her immediately — brutal, punishing thrusts, his hips slamming against her, the whole bed shaking, her bound body jolting with every stroke.

— Take it, — he snarled. — Take the whole fucking thing. This is what happens to girls who get taken. They get used.

— Please — please — she sobbed, even as her pussy clenched around him, even as her body betrayed her with every thrust.

He fucked her harder. His hand fisted in her hair through the blindfold strap, yanking her head back, and his other hand reached down to find her clit, rubbing it hard and fast, no mercy.

— Come, — he ordered. — Come on my cock like the good little captive you are.

She came violently, her pussy clamping down on him in hard spasms, her scream raw, her whole body convulsing in the ropes. And he didn’t stop. He kept pounding her through it, his cock throbbing inside her, and the orgasm rolled straight into another one — she was sobbing now, overwhelmed, destroyed — and still he didn’t stop.

— Please — please — I can’t —

— You can, — he said, — and you will. You’re going to take everything I give you. All weekend.

He pulled out — she wailed at the loss — and untied her ankles from the footboard just enough to flip her onto her stomach. Her wrists were still bound to the headboard, stretched above her. He pushed her knees apart and drove into her from behind, his cock spearing deep into her pussy, his weight crushing her into the mattress.

— Oh god — oh god —

— That’s right, — he growled, pounding into her. — Pray to your god. He can’t hear you down here.

His hand came down on her ass, hard, over and over, the sharp cracks filling the room, while he fucked her relentlessly. Her ass was burning, her pussy was on fire, and she was coming again — she couldn’t stop it, couldn’t fight it — her walls convulsing around his thick cock.

— I’m going to fill this pussy, — he snarled. — I’m going to pump you so full you’ll be leaking me for days.

— No — please — no —

— Yes, — he said, and came deep inside her, his cock pulsing, shooting thick hot ropes of cum into her pussy, filling her, flooding her, and she came with him, her pussy milking his spurting cock, her cry tearing out of her.

He collapsed over her, breathing hard, his weight pinning her down. Then he pulled out slowly, and she felt his cum leaking out of her onto the sheets.

— Sleep, — he said. — You’ll need your strength. Tomorrow’s going to be worse.

He left the room. She heard a lock turn. She lay there in the dark, bound and blindfolded, shaking, his cum warm inside her, and she cried until she fell asleep.

She woke to his mouth on her pussy.

Saturday morning. She was still tied, still blindfolded, and he was between her legs, his tongue working her clit with slow, devastating skill. She came before she was fully awake — her body just detonated, her pussy pulsing around his tongue, her back arching off the mattress, a scream tearing out of her throat while he held her hips down and kept licking, kept sucking, relentless.

— Good morning, captive, — he said, lifting his glistening face. — Did you sleep well?

— Please, — she whispered. — Please, let me go. My husband — my husband will be looking for me —

— Your husband’s working, — he said, and her blood went cold. — He won’t miss you until Sunday. And by Sunday, you won’t want to leave.

— You don’t know that —

— I know your body, — he said, and pushed two thick fingers into her pussy, making her cry out. — I know how wet you get. I know how hard you come. Your body already belongs to me. Your mind just hasn’t caught up yet.

He climbed up her body, his cock thick and hard and leaking against her thigh, and he positioned himself at her entrance — and then he stopped, hovering, the head just barely touching her folds.

— Beg for it, — he said.

— Please, — she whispered immediately. — Please fuck me, I need it, please —

— Louder. I want to hear how much the captive wants her captor’s cock.

— PLEASE FUCK ME! — she cried, past shame, past everything. — PLEASE, I NEED IT, FUCK ME HARD —

He slammed into her. She screamed. He was so thick, stretching her wide, filling her completely, and he set a brutal pace immediately — hard, deep, punishing thrusts, the headboard banging against the wall with every stroke.

— This is what you are for, — he growled, pounding into her. — This pussy. This mouth. This body. All mine. All weekend. I can take you whenever I want, however I want, and you can’t do a single thing about it.

— Yes — yes — take me — I’m yours —

— Louder.

— I’M YOURS! TAKE ME! USE ME!

He roared and fucked her harder, his cock throbbing inside her, every vein pulsing against her walls, and his thumb found her clit and pressed down mercilessly. The orgasm hit like a truck — her pussy convulsing, gushing, her screams raw and endless — and he kept going, kept pounding, his own release building, his thrusts getting wild and desperate.

— Fuck — I’m going to fill you up — I’m going to breed this captive pussy —

— YES — fill me — please —

He came with a roar, his cock pulsing deep inside her, shooting thick hot cum into her pussy in heavy ropes, filling her, overflowing her, and she felt it leaking out around him, running down to the sheets. She came with him, her walls spasming around his spurting cock, sobbing his name — no, not his name, she didn’t know his name — sobbing into the dark.

He untied her wrists — the first time she’d been free since she woke up — and dragged her to a bathroom. She stumbled, her legs shaking, his cum running down her thighs. He shoved her into a shower and turned the water on cold.

She gasped, the icy water shocking her system. He stepped in behind her, fully clothed, and pushed her to her knees on the tile.

— You know what I want, — he said.

She took his cock in her mouth. Under the freezing water, shaking violently, she sucked him — deep, desperate, filthy, her tongue swirling around the head, her hand working the base, taking him to the back of her throat and holding him there until her eyes watered behind the blindfold.

— Fuck, — he groaned, his hands fisted in her wet hair. — That mouth is mine. All mine.

She moaned around him, the vibration making his whole body shudder, and she felt his cock swell and throb — and then he was coming, shooting down her throat, and she swallowed every drop, greedy and shaking, licking him clean.

He pulled her up and turned her around, bending her over, and pushed into her pussy from behind right there in the shower — the cold water pounding down on them, his hands gripping her hips, his thrusts hard and slick and brutal. She came on his cock with the water streaming over her face, screaming, her pussy milking him, and he came right after, filling her again, his groans echoing off the tile.

He dragged her back to the bed and tied her up again — wrists to the headboard, ankles to the footboard, spread wide. Saturday afternoon stretched ahead of her, helpless and endless.

He blindfolded her again — she hadn’t even realized he’d taken it off in the shower — and he ate her pussy for an hour. An entire hour. Slow, torturous, perfect. His tongue and fingers worked her relentlessly, building her up and dragging her back, letting her come and then starting again before she’d finished shaking. She lost count of her orgasms. She lost the ability to speak. All she could do was moan and shake and beg.

— Please, — she whispered, barely audible. — Please, I can’t take any more —

— You can, — he said against her pussy, his breath hot. — And you will. Beg me to stop, and I’ll keep going. Beg me to continue, and I’ll keep going. There’s nothing you can say that stops me. Remember that.

— Please — please — she sobbed, not knowing what she was begging for anymore.

He kept going until she was a wrung-out, trembling wreck, her pussy swollen and throbbing, her thighs soaked, the sheets beneath her drenched.

Then he untied her ankles and flipped her over, and pushed his cock into her mouth. She was still bound at the wrists, couldn’t use her hands, could only take him with her lips and tongue, and he fucked her mouth slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out, throbbing.

— Good little captive, — he said. — Taking my cock like you were made for it.

He pulled out and drove into her pussy, slamming deep, and she screamed into the mattress, and he fucked her like a man possessed, hard and fast and endless, his thumb on her clit, his teeth on her nipple — biting just hard enough to make her cry out — and the pain and pleasure fused into something blinding.

— Come with me, — he snarled. — NOW.

They came together. Her pussy spasmed around him in wave after wave, and his cock throbbed and pulsed and erupted deep inside her — thick hot ropes of cum filling her up, painting her walls, so much of it she felt it overflowing, leaking out around his cock. He kept thrusting through it, grinding deep, making sure every drop was inside her.

He left her tied. He left the room. The lock turned.

Saturday night, he came back with food. He untied one of her hands and held a sandwich to her mouth, and she ate like a starving animal, humiliated and ravenous. He held a bottle of water to her lips. She drank greedily, water running down her chin.

— Why are you doing this? — she whispered.

— Because I can, — he said simply. — Because you’re beautiful, and helpless, and mine. That’s all the reason I need.

He retied her hand. He spread her legs. He pushed his cock into her pussy — slow this time, inch by inch, letting her feel every thick inch stretching her open — and he fucked her with long, deep, grinding strokes, his body covering hers, his mouth on her neck, biting, sucking, marking her.

— You feel that? — he breathed in her ear. — Feel me filling you up? That’s where I belong. Buried in this pussy. For the whole weekend. For as long as I want.

— Please — she moaned, her hips lifting to meet his thrusts despite herself.

— Please what? — he said, and slammed into her harder.

— Please don’t stop — she gasped, and hated herself, and couldn’t take it back.

— That’s more like it, — he growled, and fucked her harder, his cock pounding her pussy, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it mercilessly until she came, screaming, her pussy convulsing around him — and he came right after, flooding her, his groan raw and savage.

Sunday morning, he woke her with his cock already inside her — slow, deep thrusts, his weight on top of her, his hand over her mouth. She woke gasping against his palm, her pussy stretching around him, her body instantly, shamefully wet.

— Shh, — he breathed in her ear. — Last day. I’m going to make it count.

He fucked her slow and deep, rolling his hips, grinding against her clit with every stroke, and she moaned into his hand, her pussy squeezing him, milking him. He pulled his hand away and kissed her — brutal, forced, his tongue shoving into her mouth — and she bit his lip, and he groaned and bit her back.

— You’re mine, — he said against her mouth. — Say it.

— I’m yours, — she whispered.

— Louder.

— I’m yours! — she cried, and he drove into her harder, his cock pounding her pussy, and she came, her walls pulsing around him, and he came with her, filling her one last time, deep and hot.

He pulled out slowly. He untied her wrists, her ankles. She lay there shaking, her limbs aching, her body wrecked. He pulled the blindfold off.

She blinked in the sudden light — a cabin bedroom, wood walls, one small window with boards over it — and looked up at the man standing over her.

He pulled the ski mask off.

— Damion, — she breathed.

Her husband. Thirty-two years old. The man who was supposed to be working a double shift. Standing over her with dark, hungry, completely unrecognizable eyes, his cock still glistening with her wetness.

— Surprised? — he said.

— You — it was you — the whole weekend —

— The whole weekend, — he said. — I took you from your own house. I brought you here. I’ve had you tied to this bed for two days, and you never knew it was me. Your own husband.

— Damion, please —

— No, — he said, and pushed her back down on the bed, and spread her legs, and drove his cock into her pussy one more time — hard, deep, brutal — and she screamed, and he fucked her with savage force, his hands pinning her wrists above her head.

— This is who I am, — he growled, pounding into her. — The man who takes what he wants. And what I want is you. Afraid. Helpless. Mine. Always mine.

She came with his name on her lips, her pussy clenching around his cock, and he came right after, flooding her, his roar filling the cabin.

He pulled out slowly, and she stared at him, shaking, tears on her cheeks.

— Why? — she whispered. — Why didn’t you tell me?

— Because you needed to be afraid, — he said simply. — And I needed to own you like this. Completely. No pretending. Just taken. Mine.

He dressed. He untied the ropes from the bedposts and coiled them. He picked up her clothes — her real clothes, from Friday night — and dropped them on the bed.

— Get dressed, — he said. — I’m taking you home.

The drive was silent. She sat in the passenger seat, shaking, her body aching, his cum still leaking out of her. He drove with one hand on the wheel, calm, like nothing had happened.

At her front door, he stopped her.

— If you tell anyone, — he said quietly, — I’ll take you again. And next time, I won’t bring you back.

He walked away into the dark, and she stood in her doorway, trembling, and watched him go.

Inside, she locked the door. She checked every window. She showered for an hour, scrubbing until her skin was red.

And that night, lying alone in her bed — Damion supposedly still at work, the house silent — her hand slid between her legs, almost without her permission. Her fingers found her swollen, throbbing clit. And she touched herself, thinking of the cabin, the ropes, the blindfold — thinking of the stranger, the monster — thinking of Damion, her husband, her captor — and she came, hard, her back arching off the bed, whispering into the dark:

— Take me again.

She meant it. God help her, she meant every word.