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What is the most reasonable reaction to being kidnapped, chained to a wall and confined in an irregularly large, luxuriously furnished room thousands of feet underground? Is it crying? Is it screaming? Is it plotting to brutally murder the clearly dangerous man keeping you here? You’re not quite sure, and you consider all three options (especially the latter) when his goons throw you in said irregularly large room, closing the door with a click of the lock.
They say his name is Sylus. You’ve never heard of him, and it makes you wonder what prompted him to come for you specifically, especially since you consider yourself to be the epitome of a regular young woman. You don’t live with anyone, you aren’t in any relationships and you work a regular job as a receptionist at a nondescript law firm, whilst he… you don’t know who or what he is. All they told you was that he’s dangerous, and he’ll be visiting soon.
You have no idea when soon is, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t scared, and the tiniest bit curious. You’ve been sitting on the dramatically large bed for longer than you can remember, fingers brushing repeatedly on the blood red silk coverings as you stare into space, mind continuously filling with a hundred and one possibilities of what Sylus could look like. They spoke of him as if he was some god , addressing him as ‘Master Sylus’ and never using pronouns to refer to him. He seriously cannot be all that, right? You conjure up an image of the man in your mind, a short, stubby, ugly little creature that smokes cigars and talks in an exaggerated Italian accent like he’s some hotshot mafia boss.
Or maybe he is all that. The goons (as you’ve decided to call them) removed your blindfold when you entered the… lair (?), and you’d managed to take in the architecture with what limited movement you were permitted. It was tastefully decorated, dimly lit with renaissance art lining the walls like some kind of gallery. Everywhere was draped in hints of black and red, and you’d thought you’d been dragged into some kind of vampire’s den. Maybe Sylus is a vampire and you’re here to be his bloodbag… you shiver at the thought.
But if he’s a vampire, he’s bound to be attractive, right? You’ve never met a vampire who isn’t attractive… scrap that, you’ve never met a vampire (do they even exist?), but if you did, you would imagine them to be somewhat handsome. A new idea of Sylus builds in your mind, a tall man with pale skin and dark hair and sharp, sharp teeth, one who wears a cape and talks like he’s stuck in 18th century England. It’s better than your initial idea, but still not entirely desirable.
Just who the hell is this man? You begin to bite your lip, deep in thought about your captor. A vampire… that has its perks. You’re not necessarily kinky like that, but you could give it a pass, provided he’s the type you’d drop your panties for in a heartbeat. The flesh of your thighs clench together as you begin to whisk up some depraved fantasy, a fantasy where your captor is a steaming hot (or cold) vampire, scooping you up out of these blood red sheets and whispering in your ear before taking a bite right out of your jugular…
“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of a voice, one that doesn’t sound like one of the goons. You pry your eyes open and look in the direction of the voice, mouth dropping open as you meet eyes with who you can only assume to be the one you’ve been thinking about for the past couple of hours.
You must be the luckiest captive in the entire world, because Sylus is fucking hot.
He’s not quite the cape-wearing, proper English speaking guy from your fantasies but he’s getting pretty damn close, tall frame looking almost cramped in the doorway of the bedroom. His silver hair is pushed back, his side parting allowing some of it to fall into his face in a way that screams at you to rejoin it with the rest. He’s smiling at you, and whilst you can’t see any fangs, his canines are sharp, sharp enough that the points of them glint in the dim light of the room. After your quick assessment of the rest of his body, your eyes find their way back to his, and you notice that they’re red .
He’s definitely not human, not with eyes like that. You swear you catch one of them begin to glow, but you surmise it’s the leftover delusion of your vampire fantasies, so you brush that thought aside, instead hardening your gaze and shrinking backwards into the bed. “Who the fuck are you?”
Sylus tuts. “That’s no way to speak to your captor, kitten.” Kitten? You can’t stop your mouth from dropping open in disgust. “And close your mouth. It’s unsightly.”
Maybe you should kill this man, but when he finally walks through the doorframe and stands up straight, you realise you have no chance of winning against him. He begins to walk closer to the bed, and you realise just how large he is, and not just in height. He’s wearing a black dress shirt and black trousers but you can see the contours of his muscle through the loose material, and it seems like his chest is fighting the buttons of his shirt. The thought of someone so muscly should scare you, but given the face that accompanies the body…
You don’t know whether you want to kiss him or kill him.
“Why did you bring me here?” You grit out refusing to let your eyes stray from his face. The smirk he’s giving you feels degrading, and you very much feel like a helpless kitten in the hands of a daunting prey… no . If you think like that, you won’t ever be able to get out of here.
“Do I have to answer that?” He tilts his head, and you really, really want to wrap your hand around his neck and force him to look at you properly instead of acting like this is all one big game. “Can’t a man have his reasons?”
“No, he cannot,” you all but spit back at him. “You can’t have your reasons, because I barely fucking know you, let alone want to be chained up in your house.”
“But haven’t I been so kind to you?” He’s drawling now, and the sound of his voice sends an unwelcome shock in between your legs. Keep it together . “I could’ve locked you even deeper underground, in an actual prison with conditions unsuitable for any human to survive , let alone speak to me the way you’re speaking to me right now. Would you rather I do that, or will you stop asking me stupid questions and listen to me like a good girl?”
The conviction in his tone renders you speechless. You really shouldn’t obey this man because again, you don’t know him past the fact his name is Sylus and he’s the one who ordered your abduction, but now that you know he’s powerful, you don’t want to wager your bets on trying to take him down. You shrink back into your position on the bed, legs crossed as you watch him walk around the room.
“Luke and Kieran did a good job of decorating this room for you,” he starts, running his long fingers along the vanity in the corner. “It matches the aesthetic of the rest of the house quite nicely.” Although he’s speaking to you, you feel ignored, like another ornament placed befittingly in the room. It’s then that you realise you crave his attention, but your brain tells you it’s because you’ve been alone for so long.
Not because you like it. Definitely not that.
“Why me?” You ask again, quieter this time, and Sylus notes the despondency in your voice. It was nice to find out that the room was decorated specifically for you, but you want to know why , and his refusal to tell you is beginning to piss you off more and more. As nice as this all is, (if you could even call it ’nice’,) you miss your home and your limited number of friends. You even begin to find yourself missing your job, no matter how monotonous it is. Or was ; you don’t even know anymore.
You’re brought out of your thoughts by the feeling of cold fingers on your jaw, lifting your face upwards. His breath fans just shy of your lips and you gasp gently, eyes softening when they latch onto his carmine ones. “All will make sense soon,” he whispers, and you nod, fighting the tears threatening to pool in your ducts.
You hope it will.
Days pass, and you remain in the room. The goons (Luke and Kieran) bring you meals; breakfast, lunch and dinner, all at the same time, every day. Sylus had granted you the luxury of having a clock in your room, so you know that it’s the same time every day that they bring your food, and you actually begin to look forward to it. The food isn’t half bad, in fact, it’s good , better than what you had been eating back home.
Home . You miss it more by the day, and you begin to wonder if anyone has noticed your disappearance. Your boss certainly would, but given he doesn’t really care whether you’re at work or not, you figure he’ll probably think you quit. It was about time anyways. The pay was bad, and you had been dropping hints of your departure for a while.
One night, over a solitary dinner for one, your mind drifts to your colleagues. Would they note your disappearance? You weren’t exactly a distinguishing figure in the office, but someone had to be the coffee girl, right? As you play around with the gratuitous pile of peas on your plate, you begin to think of one colleague in particular.
Zayne is one of the department managers. He’s a busy man, but he always finds time to greet you every morning with a smile and your favourite coffee. It’s sweet, and you’ve developed a sort of workplace crush on him, despite your reluctance to admit it. You think he feels the same way, but you’re not quite sure, so you keep yourself quiet, limiting your interactions to morning coffees and politely exchanging smiles in the office kitchen.
You take a bite of your steak. In another timeline, one where you were perhaps not being held captive by a psycho maniac, you would've asked Zayne out. Maybe to a restaurant, or the movies, something cute that all regular couples do. He has to notice your disappearance, right?
The thought stays with you for the rest of the evening. You can barely sleep without thinking of his face, his dark hair and smooth voice haunting you as you try to settle into the silk sheets. The material slides along your body sensually, and you don’t know what it is that makes you reach underneath them, fingers in search of the pleasure you dreamed of feeling in his arms.
You slept unusually well that night.
You’re rudely awakened the next day by a harsh knock on your door and the sound of the lock clicking. Sylus didn’t seem like the type to be knocking in his own house, so you were surprised when he walked through the door, his face set in stone.
“Good morning.” You don’t return the sentiment, instead glaring at him from your place in the sheets. “I expect you to say it back.”
“It doesn’t matter what you expect from me,” you grumble, throwing your head back into the pillows and forcing your eyes shut in an effort to reclaim your missed slumber. “Besides,” you yawn, “it’s rude to interrupt a lady’s beauty sleep.”
The room soon falls silent. You suspect he’s left and open your eyes slightly, only to be met with his red eyes observing you from the other side of the room. Why isn’t he leaving?
You turn in the sheets and face away from him, pulling the silk covers over your head. “That was your invitation to leave.”
“This is my house,” he responds just as curtly, rising from his seat and walking towards your bed. You hold a bated breath in anticipation, gasping quietly when you feel his large, and again, cold hand tracing your figure lightly over the thin sheets. “I come and go as I please. Everything here belongs to me, after all.”
He can’t have been making a reference to you, right? You stay still, unmoving until you feel a dip in the bed beside you. There’s no way he’s getting in bed with you already; you barely know him! You turn over to see what he’s doing, and he isn’t laying next to you, instead sitting on the edge and looking at you with what seems to be desire in his eyes. It’s borderline creepy, but you feel yourself heating up, especially when you watch his long fingers begin to play around with the covers.
“What did you dream about last night?” His question falls upon deaf ears. You dreamt about Zayne, both awake and asleep, but you didn’t want him to know that. Sylus is dangerous, and despite not knowing his intentions with you, you know that if he found out about Zayne, he would be in danger. “Kieran told me he heard whimpering coming from your room.”
Oh. So someone had heard you. You didn’t think they would, considering how large the room was and how quiet you had willed yourself to be. As your mind recounts the time you had with yourself the night before, Sylus’ touch returns to your ankle. “I asked a question, kitten. Answer me.”
You bite your lip. You hate that nickname, you really do, but the way he says it has you wanting to pour your soul out to him. “It was… a nightmare. I miss my home.”
Sylus visibly crumples, his voice taking on a hint of pity. “What can I do to make your stay more…. homely?” His touch has traveled further now, to your calves, and you fear if it moves any higher, you might spread your legs for him completely. “I could ask Luke and Kieran to bring you some entertainment, or I could visit more often…”
“Release me.” Your voice is shaky, but your conviction seems to do the trick, because Sylus’ movements on your ankle stop. “If you tell me what you want from me, I can give it to you, but you have to promise to release me first.”
“And why would I do that?” Any semblance of kindness dissipates from his voice, and you punch yourself for even bothering to ask. When you don’t answer, he smiles, and you catch a glimpse of his perfect teeth. “You’re asking for a big favour there, and you haven’t even given me what I want yet…”
What does he want? He has yet to tell you, and you consider pressing him for more information until you feel his hand slip under the covers, cold flesh meeting the warmth of your thighs. A groan breaks free from your throat and Sylus laughs, a sound that is sultry but sounds like clanging pipes in your ears.
“All I ask,” he starts, voice low as he shifts himself into a better position, “is for you to be good , and for you to do as I tell you. Not much, is it now?” Against your own volition, you find yourself shaking your head in agreement. “ Exactly. ” His hands slip under your nightdress, and you arch your back. “I have a feeling you know how to be a good girl, princess.”
You don’t want this, but you’re wet and ready, waiting for Sylus to give you what you so desperately need. You’re a greedy girl; you have someone for you back home, someone safe and less dangerous than him and yet you find yourself wanting more, all against your own will. “ Sylus… ”
“Attagirl,” he whispers, fingers slipping under the seat of your underwear and massaging your clit in slow circles. “You can act like you hate me, but I know this is what you want.”
You grimace. “I don’t,” you bite out, willing your hips to stop moving against his hand. “Stop.”
You were wrong to think he would listen to you, because his fingers keep moving, one even moving down to tease your fluttering hole. “Don’t lie to me, because I’ll always find out.”
You arch pathetically into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut as you begin to feel your climax rapidly approaching. He won’t be able to tell when you’re about to cum, he doesn’t know your body well enough and yet he pulls away, using his clean hand to force you to look at him as he slips the fingers of the other one into his mouth.
“You taste… divine,” he drawls, red eyes never breaking contact with yours as he sucks his fingers clean of your taste. In another world, you would find this immensely attractive, but you find yourself flaring up with anger and embarrassment at the denial of your impending orgasm. When Sylus begins to rise from the bed, you find yourself grabbing his arm, trying your damned hardest to pull him back down and finish what he started.
“You can’t just-”
“This is my house,” he clarifies, that smug smirk on his face once more. “I come and go as I please.”
He slams the door on his way out and you fall back down into the bed as you hear the lock click back into place. The clock reads 8:05am, and it’s then that you come to a conclusion:
Your hands are going to be very busy for the rest of the day.
You should’ve known better than to ask for your release so brazenly, because Sylus makes a point of visiting your room every day. Some days, he sits and says nothing, just observing your movements from the corner of the room. Other days, he talks to you, asking you to recount what your previous home was like.
Yes, previous . By the day, you begin to lose hope of ever returning, but you refuse to let yourself grow attached to your captor.
“I had a pet,” you tell him one day as you sit in front of the vanity, applying a moisturiser to your face. It had appeared on the table one day, and although you had never mentioned it being your favourite, you suspect that Sylus had bought it to make up for your… situation. “A cat. Achilles.” Sylus stares at you blankly. “After the Greek Hero?” Still no change in expression on his end, and you groan. “What exactly do you spend your free time doing?”
Your sarcastic question prompts a smile from him. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he quips before walking across the room to stand behind you. You spot him in the mirror, turning to look at him as he places his hands on your shoulders. “Keep your eyes on the mirror, kitten. You look very pretty like this.”
His voice takes up the same tone it did all the time ago when he left you to fend for yourself after he had denied you an orgasm. You had spent all day in bed, just you and your fingers, trying to emulate that same feeling he’d given you but nothing had worked, not even when you forced the silk pillow in between your legs and humped it like a needy dog in heat. You made a point not to tell him what you did after he’d left, purely because you didn’t want him to know how depraved he made you feel.
No . You hated him. You hate him, even now as he kneels down and traces his lips along your exposed collarbone.
“We never addressed last week,” he whispers, red eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he slowly drags down the spaghetti strap of your silk pyjama set. It was only last week? It felt like months ago. “How did you feel after I left you high and dry?”
You don’t answer him, knowing your mouth would betray you. Sylus laughs, hands slipping under your nightdress and cupping both of your breasts, making you gasp gently as his thumbs brushed over your perky nipples.
“You can’t give me the silent treatment, kitten. I can’t give you what you want if you do.” He suddenly pinches your left nipple firmly and your back arches against his washboard chest. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”
You can’t. You won’t , and so you sit in silence, staring at him desperately in the hope that he will give you the orgasm you so very needed, regardless of your disobedience. And you don’t know why you think that’s a good idea, because Sylus withdraws his touch from your body completely: the warmth of his lips become absent from your collarbone, his fingers cease playing with your chest and he’s standing up behind you, arms crossed as he looks down at you in the mirror with disdain.
“You will submit,” he commands, and you flinch at the firmness of his voice. “Whether you like it or not, you will.”
“I won’t,” you whisper, and he scoffs.
“I’ll hold you to that.” And then he leaves, the all too familiar click of the lock being all he leaves you with.
That night, your fingers work overtime, and you wonder if the goons can hear the sound of their master’s name amongst the moans forced into your pillow.
Sylus doesn’t visit you again for several weeks. You consider asking Luke or Kieran where he is, but they seem to not want to talk to you either, just coming by to deliver your meals without so much as another word. When you finally work up the courage to ask them the whereabouts of their boss, their answer is… lacklustre , to say the least.
“Master Sylus is out on important business.” Important business? What kind of important business? Is he okay?
Or maybe they’re lying to you. Maybe Sylus has given up on trying to tame you, and is leaving you to rot in solitary without so much as a second glance. Days without him turn into weeks, and you’ve stopped counting the rotations of the clock in your free time, instead allowing the weeks to blend into months. You spend your days sleeping, eating, doing your makeup in the vanity and…
You miss his touch more than you’d like to admit. Once it became clear he wouldn’t be returning for a while, you returned to other methods of granting yourself pleasure, regardless of who could be listening in. By day, you would sit and stew in the bedroom, repeating the same tasks over and over until you tired yourself, but the moment dinner was over and the lights were out, you would return to the mess of silken sheets with nothing but your fingers, the pillows, and the thoughts of your stoic captor for comfort.
No matter how much you tried, nothing could compare to the way Sylus had touched you all that time ago. You would create fantasies in your head, scenarios where after he pulled away, he would’ve pinned you down, taking you in a fashion that would be described as more than lewd. You wanted to hear him moan, wanted to hear him praise you, congratulate you for finally submitting to him and becoming the docile kitten he had always wanted you to be.
I hate that nickname, you keep telling yourself, even as you rub your clit slowly under the covers one dark night, eyes fluttering shut as you imagine Sylus’ fingers replacing yours, his lips close to your ear as he talks you through your pleasure. You don’t stop yourself from whining out his name, back arching against the sheets as you slip your fingers inside, images of him plaguing your mind like a hazy fog as you work yourself higher and higher.
“ I’m close, ” you whisper to nobody in particular, eyes squeezing shut as your fantasy of Sylus intensifies, his presence wrapping around your body under the sheets. “ Sylus… ”
“ I’m right here, ” you hear him whisper, but you think nothing of it, pleasure clouding your mind as your legs begin to shake. “ Cum for me, my princess .”
And you do just that. You do more , drenching the sheets with your juices as you convulse in the bed, bones of your spine clicking as you climax uncontrollably. When the pleasure subsides, your eyes crack open, pupils dilating as they adjust to the dim lights of the room.
Where are you?
Sylus isn’t there, was never there to begin with, and yet it feels as though he’s watching you from somewhere in the room. You turn your head to the side to look at yourself in the mirror on the vanity.
Is that… a crow?
You’ve never really paid much attention to the decoration of your bedroom. There’s a vanity on the far side, and you spend most of your days there, looking at yourself in the mirror until you feel yourself start to dissociate. It isn’t healthy, but it keeps you company, reminds you that despite your situation, you’re still here, even if the light in your eyes fades little by little every day.
There’s a bookshelf that takes up the entirety of the Northern wall. You’ve never bothered to look at the books there; they’re all dusty, and you doubt there are any romance novels hidden amongst the aged hardback covers. The shelf also houses a couple of antique ornaments, most of them decorated with cobwebs and particles of dust. You don’t pay much attention to those either.
Maybe you should’ve, because amongst the ornaments is what seems to be a crow, and it doesn’t seem to be alive. Creepy.
Who the hell puts a taxidermied crow in a bedroom for their captive and considers it decoration? A crazy person might, that’s who, and you seriously begin to think Sylus has some kind of hidden veto against you, with his solution being to torture you psychologically with stuffed animals until you either apologise or kill yourself from hysteria.
You spend the rest of the day staring fruitlessly at the crow. You consider talking to it too, as if it’s actually alive and not just a cursed amenity used to torture whoever had the displeasure of spending time with it.
After three hours of debating whether or not to strike up conversation with the stuffed toy, you finally fall asleep.
When you wake up, the crow is no longer there.
After what feels like eternity, Luke informs you that Sylus has finally returned.
“He was staying in his house across the city,” he tells you over breakfast, standing next to the door as you eat. “I can’t tell you what he was doing, but he wanted me to let you know that he is okay.
“He also wanted me to tell you that he missed you.”
You drop your fork on your plate, the metal meeting china with a loud clang that reverberates throughout the large room. “He did?”
Luke nods curtly before taking your plate and leaving, the lock clicking behind him.
After Luke’s revelation, you begin to think of Sylus more often. Even though he’s back, he doesn’t come to see you, and you wonder why. If he missed you, he should come and see you, shouldn’t he?
You’re like a puppy. You know that the lock only clicks three times a day for your meals, but whenever you hear the sound, you visibly perk up, hoping that it’s him delivering your meals instead of his servants. If you had a tail, it would wag excitedly in anticipation, but of course, he never comes. You would ask Luke or Kieran about him again, but you don’t want to be annoying, and you certainly don’t want Sylus to know that you care about him the slightest bit.
The crow has made a return, though. You refuse to touch it, accepting that it’s a figment of your imagination, a mechanism you’ve thought up to cope with your immense loneliness. Instead, you talk to it, telling it about your home, your cat and your job.
One day, you tell it about Zayne.
“We didn’t speak all that often…” you start, laying on your bed and turning to the crow as if it was your therapist,“ …but I liked him all the same. He’s sweet. Cold, but sweet, kinda like ice cream.” Images of the sugary dessert begin to manifest in your mind, and you groan when you hear your stomach rumble. “I’m so fucking hungry.”
As if on command, you hear the lock click. Is it mealtime already? Before you turn to look at the clock and check the time, your eyes pick up on something unusual.
Since when did Kieran dye his hair white?
Unless… no , it can’t be. You thought he hated you, that him missing you was a lie, that…
“You look tired, kitten.” Sylus. He’s here, in the flesh, standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed and head tilted with a smirk on his lips. Just to confirm you aren’t hallucinating him, you look over at the shelf.
The crow is gone. Sylus is really here, in the flesh, staring down at you spread out on your bed. “You… you’re really here.”
“I am ,” he says teasingly from the foot of the bed, and you can tell that he’s physically stopping himself from pouncing on you. You sit up and look at him, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip as you take in the sight you’ve missed for the past couple of weeks.
Sylus looks… different . Not much different from how he usually looks, but when he walks closer to you, you feel trapped, like you’re being surrounded by a dense, dark fog. His eyes seem to have turned more red , and his muscles…
He looks like he’s killed a thousand men, and you’d be lying if you didn’t think he looked hotter this way.
“Did you miss me that much?” You barely registered how close he’d gotten to you on account of ogling his body, and you jump when you realised he’s moved, his lips just shy of yours in his new position next to the bed. “You’re undressing me with your eyes. I can tell.”
“I’m not ,” you protest, voice rising in pitch when you feel his fingers brush the column of your neck. “I’m… I’m glad you’re back, that’s all.”
“So you did miss me?” His other hand encapsulates your thigh, nose moving to the crook of your neck as he slowly inhales your scent. “I missed you too, kitten.”
Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted Sylus to come back, to make up for all the nights alone trying to redeem your lost moments of pleasure with him, yet you find yourself denying him again , hands fruitlessly pushing his face away from your neck. “You’re wrong. I get lonely in here. Luke and Kieran never stay for very long.”
“Mhm, and your method of coping with loneliness is touching yourself , isn’t that right, my needy girl ?”
You balk. How did he know that? Ever since you were almost caught whining out for Zayne in the middle of the night, you’ve been making an effort to keep yourself quiet, burying your head in the pillow whenever you thought you were being too loud. There’s no way Luke or Kieran heard you , so how would Sylus know of what you liked to get up to when nobody was watching?
“I didn’t know I made you feel that desperate, kitten,” he says, a skeptical look on his face. “I know those pretty fingers can’t reach exactly where you need them to. If you had just asked me, I would’ve given you what you wanted.”
“But that would mean…”
“ Exactly .” Sylus smiles when you begin to catch on. “I know you can’t make yourself orgasm all alone, my sweet kitty. It’s too difficult of a task for a dumb little girl like you.” He holds your chin in his hand again, forcing you to look up at him. “ I can help you. ”
You’ve been holding your own against him for months. You never allowed him to get under your skin, yet all it took was a couple of months away from him for your walls to come crumbling down. He’s right; you do need him, and all the times you tried to replicate the way you felt with him were fruitless, aside from the time you finally gave in and allowed your thoughts to wander. You could say yes right now. You could apologise for being a brat, promise to be his and only his until he decides to let you go.
You do neither of those. Instead, you lean in and kiss him square on the lips, eyes squeezed shut as your resolve melts away like butter. His lips stretch into a triumphant grin, and you feel it against yours, moaning when you feel him bite down gently on your flesh.
“You looked so helpless in the camera footage,” he breathes in between kisses, his large arms circling around your waist as he lifts you up and out of the bed, the silk sheets falling unceremoniously around you. “Poor kitten, rubbing her clit so desperately even though she knows she can’t cum without me.”
Camera footage? What camera footage? When he sets you down on the vanity, you finally open your eyes, and as they begin to refocus, that’s when you see it.
The crow. It’s back , and its red eyes are blinking now, and if you squint, you think you can just about make out a strange glint in its eyes. Then, it’s pupils get smaller, and that’s when you finally realise what’s going on.
Whilst Sylus was gone, he had been using the crow to spy on you. It was never a figment of your imagination, it was real , and as it stood on the bookshelf amongst the dust and cobwebs, it watched your every move.
Your blood runs cold. It was watching everything , including every time you tried and failed to work yourself up to orgasm.
And the whole time, Sylus was watching.
“ That’s right ,” he says, his affirmation like a cold bucket of ice water being dumped over your head. “I could hear it, too. Who knew your pussy could get so messy when I’m not around? And you still sit here and say you didn’t miss me.” He pushes you back into the mirror, his large hand splaying across your tummy and slipping under your nightgown. “ You might not have missed me, I know I can always trust her to tell me the truth.”
As much as you hate to admit it, he’s right, because you’re drenched , and when he slides his fingers through your dripping heat, the sound that fills the room is embarrassingly loud.
“Admit it,” he whispers, fingers running up and down your pussy slowly. “Admit that you missed me, and I’ll give you what you’ve been craving for these past few months.”
Admitting to missing him would be admitting defeat. You know that, and he knows you know that because his thumb starts to rub your clit, and your back arches against the mirror, the strap of your nightgown slipping off of your shoulder. It’s now or never.
“I…” He slips his fingers into your pussy, and it’s like the floodgates have opened. “ I missed you. ”
“ Better. ” His fingers press up into your g-spot unforgivingly and you all but scream , hands coming up to claw at his back as you search for some semblance of pity in his eyes.
But you never find it. Instead, one of his eyes is glowing red, much like the crow watching the both of you from the other side of the room. You have so many questions, but they all melt away when he curls his fingers unforgivingly, his lips finding your neck and biting down in a spot that makes you keen against him.
“She’s so greedy .” He taunts you, fingers moving ever faster inside your cunt. “Isn’t every day a bit of a stretch, kitten?” You respond with nothing but pathetic whimpers, thighs wrapping around his waist as you feel yourself begin to shake.
“ M-missed you ,” you whine, marking his back with red lines as you fight your impending orgasm. “Wasn’t the same without you.”
He laughs. “I know, princess, I know. But I’m here now, and I’ll give you what you need.” You’re about to cum, and you don’t want to tell him in fear of him taking it away like he did the first time, but then you remember his words.
Don’t lie to me, because I’ll always find out. “I’m gonna-”
“ Hold it. ” He’s asking the impossible, but you obey, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as you plead him silently to let you cum. Sylus continues his movements nonetheless, watching you with a hard gaze as you struggle to keep it together. “Come on kitten, I know you can do it.
“ Can’t you be a good girl for me? ”
You can. You want to be, and you obey , digging your teeth into his shoulder when he slowly pulls out his fingers and lifts them to your face. “Oh, sweetheart …” He parts his fingers, and your eyes are glued to the string of arousal connecting them. “Clean them for me.”
Silence fills the room as you lean forward, never breaking eye contact with him as you wrap your lips around his fingers and suck . It’s beyond lewd, the way you run your tongue along them, right from the base to the tips. Sylus grins, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as you put on a show for him, and he shoves his fingers in deeper , as if testing the limits of your throat. You gag, and the groan he emits has you positively throbbing.
“What a good kitty ,” he drawls, pulling out his fingers and rubbing the tips of them on your tongue in an obscene display. “You’re so much prettier when you listen .” You hum dumbly in agreement, almost ready to lean into his touch and give yourself up to him completely.
And then you feel a rapid sting on your cunt, and all semblance of obedience dissipates within milliseconds. Your walls begin to crumble down, and you twitch uncontrollably on the vanity as your orgasm washes over you like a tsunami, eyes screwing shut as your release begins to pool on the oak beneath you.
He had spanked you , right on your sensitive clit. And you came .
Sylus scoffs. “You truly are insatiable.” You reach out to him, just for an inkling of comfort but he slaps you away, capturing both your wrists in one hand and pinning them to the top of the mirror. “I thought you were trying to be good , but it looks like you want to be a brat instead.”
You open your mouth to apologise, but your voice is swallowed by a bruising kiss, rough enough to draw blood. The taste is metallic on your tongue, but it only makes you moan more, hips bucking into Sylus’ crotch in a feeble attempt to regain some of the pressure lost from your orgasm.
“ Get on your knees, ” he growls into the kiss, pulling your chest flush against his. You nod, eager to make up for disobeying him and sliding off the vanity on shaky legs. Your knee begins to give way, and before you can kiss the ground unceremoniously, you feel Sylus’ strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you upright. “Can’t have my princess falling over now, can I?”
For the first time since he came back, your heart stills. He’s looking at you, but there’s something in his red eyes, a softness that wasn’t there before. It’s… strange, and you feel compelled to kiss him again, but he stops you with the press of his finger to your lips.
“No more until you do as I say.” He talks down at you like you’re a naughty puppy, and you pout, eyes begging him for a kiss like he wasn’t just kissing you rough enough to steal the breath right out of your lungs.
So, you listen and you comply, slowly sinking to your knees as Sylus’ hand stays glued to your face, cradling your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “Does my dumb girl need me to tell her what to do?” You have an idea of what he wants, but you nod anyway, watching him eagerly as his thumb begins to stroke your cheek.
“Since you were so adamant on misbehaving earlier, I think it’s time you be punished.” Again, all you can do is watch as he unzips his trousers slowly, saliva gathering in the corners of your mouth as he slowly begins to pull them down. His boxers are black, but they show off his bulge perfectly , and you swear you actually feel a sliver of drool run down your chin. “You know how to use your mouth, don’t you? Suck it for me, princess,” he commands gently, red eyes staring down at you as you reach up and shakily pull down his boxers, eyes running down the happy trail scattered along the contours of his abs.
You are not disappointed with where said trail leads you, because Sylus is massive . The tip kisses his abs, staining his abdomen with bubbles of precum as he fists it loosely, breathing shallowly as he watches you settle beneath him. “You’re so- god - so pretty , doll,” he groans, eyes hooded as he hooks your mouth open with his free hand. “Stick your tongue out.”
You do, only to be met with the salty taste of his pre as he rubs the tip on it, slapping his cock on your tongue in quick taps as he continues to jerk himself off. You stick it out further, running it along the underside of his shaft as you continue to look at him as if nothing is amiss.
“You little brat ,” he grunts, a painful smile on his face as he slowly pushes himself further into your mouth. “Take it for me, that’s it , attagirl .” When he’s about halfway in, you close your lips around him, hands bracing on his thighs as you slowly begin to bob your head. Your tongue circles him eagerly as you’re spurred on by his moans of affirmation and praise.
Although he keeps telling you that you’re doing a good job, you feel as though you could be doing more . He’s still keeping it together, much better than you were , but the desire to see him crumble rises in your gut, so you take one hand off of his thigh and latch it onto his heavy balls, massaging them slowly as your mouth sets a pace on his cock.
“O- oh , angel…” Sylus tips his head back before letting out a gratuitous moan, his throat bobbing as he gulps back a whine. “You’re a pro at this, aren’t you? Dirty girl.” You nod and he laughs, the sound shooting straight to your dripping cunt. “You’re so messy too, look. You’re getting drool all over me.”
He’s right; you are messy, the velvety skin of his balls beginning to moisten as your spit dribbles down the column of his cock. Some of it even drips onto the floor, joining the pool of slick that had accumulated in between your legs from how dirty this all was. Sylus cards a hand through your hair and starts to move you further down his shaft.
He groans when he feels your throat constrict around him, a guttural gagging sound filling the room. “Take it all, good girl .” He begins to move his hips in time, causing you to bury your nose in the silvery hair gathering at his base. The heady scent of his musk fills your nostrils and you fight the urge to reach down and slip your fingers inside, matching his tempo as he uses your face to get himself off.
When you think he’s about to cum, you tighten your throat a little more, eyes beginning to tear up again when you try to breathe in, but all you inhale is his raw, concentrated scent. “Kitten, kitten , slow down . You can’t make me cum just yet.” He lifts your mouth off of his cock, running his thumb along your jaw before hooking it over your bottom lip and pulling it down.
Sylus proceeds to spit in your mouth, letting the glob of spit hang before finally letting it drop onto your tongue. “ Swallow, ” he commands, and like always, you obey, closing your mouth as you let his spit travel down your throat. “ Good kitty .”
“Why-“ You try to protest once your mouth is empty, but all that comes out is a scratchy mewl, your throat all but destroyed by Sylus’ rough assault prior. He was close , and you wanted it, so why did he stop? Before you can attempt to ask him again, he’s pulling you up from your knees and kissing you, stealing any questions from you in a single breath.
“I want to cum…” he groans, his hands slipping around to grip your ass before hiking your thighs up and around his waist. “I want to cum inside you , princess.”
When your mouth drops open in shock at his dirty admittance, Sylus takes the advantage, slipping his tongue inside and letting it melt into yours, his hips thrusting upwards subconsciously in a desperate search for friction against the air. You aren’t completely still either; you grind into him as he carries you across the room and places you on the bed, lips chasing after him when he pulls away.
The two of you stay silent for a beat, looking at each other as your chests rise and fall with heavy breaths. It’s only then when you realise the gravity of your situation; you’d bent to his will and submitted, just like he’d said you would.
The whole time you were locked in here, away from home, you had vowed to yourself that this was the one thing that you would never do. Now, as you lay back on the bed in front of him, eyes clouded with nothing but lust and desire, any thought of rebellion had dissipated from your mind like smoke.
Sylus towered over you, his face red and sweat dripping down his brow. He was just as debauched as you, but he wore it well , and that fact only made you want to pull him in for more.
You lick your lips before summoning all the courage you had left. “ Fuck me .”
Sylus smiles in response, and you feel as if a trap had just been dropped over your head. “As you wish, kitten.”
It all moves very quickly after that. He pounces, knees dropping to the floor as he bends your legs back until you feel a burn in your joints. His large hands encompass the fat of your thighs, and his red eyes bore into yours as he licks a stripe down the centre of your pussy. “She’s making a lot of noise,” he purrs into your flesh, hands dragging down your skin as he pries you apart further . “Such a messy little girl.”
You whine feebly as he begins to eat you out slowly, savouring your taste as if you were water and he was stuck in a desert. It’s precise and painfully detailed, and within seconds Sylus has you gripping the sheets and arching your back. You move your arm to card your fingers through his hair but he stops you, detaching his mouth from your pussy and glaring up at you.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.” You nod shakily, and he hums in approval. “Good girl.”
Sylus is relentless . He’s a master with his tongue, alternating between caressing your clit and teasing your empty hole whilst massaging your thighs in a way that has you melting into the silk. It seems as if he’s edging you too; every time you feel yourself begin to seize up, he pulls away, replacing his tongue with his thumb and rubbing small but slow circles on your irritated bud.
And through it all, he praises you, but you fear they fall upon deaf ears. All you can focus on is his touch, the way it feels searing hot against your already clammy skin despite his hands being perpetually cold. It confuses you, makes you want more , and by the time the coil in your stomach has been wound and unwound to its limit, you’re begging him to give you what you need.
“S-Sylus,” you hiccup, fat tears rolling down your face as you plead with him desperately. “Sylus, ‘m sorry , didn’t mean to be a brat , please, I want-”
“I know what you want,” he bites back, but it sounds like he’s speaking to you from underwater. “I’ll give it to you, my princess. I promise.”
You can barely register what he says, but you do register the feeling of something heavy running through your folds. When you look down at him, you realise it’s the head of his cock, and you swear you begin to sob in gratitude. “Thank you, thank you -”
“Don’t thank me just yet, doll. I’ve barely done anything.” He’s smiling, and you’re trying to figure out what the fuck is so funny when he thrusts inside in one fell push, the sudden intensity causing your back to arch off of the bed at a ninety degree angle.
Of course, Sylus is quick to comfort you. “It’s okay, it’s okay , my love, I’ve got you.” He bends over to kiss your forehead before thrusting even deeper , and your nails claw at his bare back, mouth hanging open as your eyes roll into the back of your head. “You look so pretty like this. Nice and dumb on my cock, just as you should be.”
Just as you should be. Maybe this is where you belong, under him, begging for your pleasure like the useless little kitty that you are. You don’t mind it. In fact, you could live like this if it wasn’t for your life back home, which required you to be a functioning member of society.
Home… where is that again? You can’t remember, and you can’t bring yourself to remember with the feeling of Sylus’ tip bumping against your g-spot. Your eyes roll back into focus, but they begin to haze over as you allow the pleasure to consume you whole.
“ That’s it , go nice and stupid for me baby girl, this is where you belong .” You’re going crazy, because it feels like he’s in your head, telling you to let go of the last threads of normalcy you’ve been holding on to for all this time. You need to think , you need to hold on, to remember …
The coil begins to tighten again, and the switch in your mind flips, right back to the mindset of unbridled pleasure. You allow Sylus to take you over and over again, and you relish in the feeling of his sweaty skin slapping against yours, the sound echoing around the room in a cacophony that encases your mind. Everything feels so good : the slipperiness of the silk bed sheets, Sylus’ hands holding your legs apart, the feeling of his cock slipping in and out of you at a mind-numbing rhythm…
Again, again, again…
“Gonna cum,” you mumble, teary eyes searching for him in the chaos. “Sylus, I can’t, ‘s too much , I’m-”
“You can do it,” he says, and this time, you can tell he means it. His eyes aren’t harsh like they were before; they’re softer now, and they’re encouraging you to take what you want. For the first time, you feel a semblance of control. Your lips stretch into a gentle smile. Maybe things aren’t so bad after all.
Just as you reach the precipice, his hand wraps around your throat, and the feeling of euphoria begins to intensify tenfold. Only one thought flashes in your mind, glaring red like the lights of a warning siren; you belong to him now, and there is no control on your side of the scale. The thought should scare you, but it doesn’t. It makes you feel relieved, and it’s with this mindset that you enter your orgasmic state, pleasure flowing through your veins like a drug.
The pressure doesn’t pass, instead forcing its way out of you in a powerful stream of release, your juices all but drenching the silken sheets of the bed. The world quickly begins to fade to black, and before you pass out, your stomach fills with an all-consuming warmth, along with some words being whispered in your ear.
“You’re mine now. Don’t fucking forget it.”
For the first time in a while, Sylus wakes up with a body in his bed. It’s not a dead body, thankfully, but a body nonetheless, and at first, he has no clue how to react
He should call Luke or Kieran, but what for? You’re only sleeping, and as far as he’s concerned, that isn’t exactly a crime, is it? He could call them to come and wake you up, but you look so peaceful, and no matter how much he prides himself for being ‘heartless’, he truly doesn’t believe he has the heart to disturb you now.
It’s safe to say that you’ve been through a lot. Being kidnapped from your own home isn’t a regular occurrence, and whilst he’s tried to be a more accommodating host, Sylus can admit that this whole situation was less than ideal for you. You were scared, and that was reasonable, and he can’t even begin to imagine how you would react to the revelation that he doesn’t actually have a solid reason for doing all of this in the first place.
Well, he does , but it sounds ridiculous, even more so now that he knows that there’s someone out there who feels the exact same way about you that he does. Or, was : Zayne has been out of the picture for weeks, ever since Sylus visited him on important business .
How else would he have made sure that he was the true apple of your eye? An apple a day keeps the doctor away after all, and given the events of last night, he doubts Zayne would ever want to come near you again.
Nobody wants used goods , right?
Sylus knows he shouldn’t think about your ex-lover slash crush, but he can’t help himself. Ever since he received reports that the thought of Zayne was the thing helping you get to sleep the first couple of nights, he couldn’t stop himself from stewing over it like a lovesick fool. He couldn’t even make the effort to visit, to look you in the eye because he was so caught up about it. Why does he even care? It’s not like he’s letting you leave any time soon, right?
Right. So he should stop thinking about it, put Zayne on the backburner and focus on you . His eyes track over to your sleeping form under the covers, and he feels his heart strike up a faint beat. You’re so pretty , as always, but especially when sleeping. You look peaceful , and he tries to enjoy it, but his mind drifts to last night.
You were a mess. You definitely deserve this rest.
Sylus gets back under the covers. He won’t wake you, not yet. A second round would be nice, but you were firmly entrenched in subspace after he was done with you, and he doubts you’ve fully recovered. Instead, he lies by your side and simply watches, tracing your features with his eyes.
Can he call this love? He’s not sure. Normal people don’t kidnap the people they love, trapping them miles underground and forcing them to reciprocate the feeling. There’s an inkling of doubt clawing at his mind, an inkling that tells him you won’t ever feel the same way.
But there’s no use thinking about it now. In the meantime, all he can do is enjoy what’s right in front of him, and when a strand of hair falls into your face, he brushes it back and behind your ear. Your eyes flicker for a moment and he fears he’s woken you, but alas, you stay asleep, head nuzzling into his shoulder as you fall deeper and deeper into the wormhole of sleep.
Sylus looks up at the bookshelf. The crow stands amongst the ornaments, its red eyes blinking in rhythm with the beat of your heart against his chest.
You might not love him now, but some time in the future, he can see it working out somehow.
Only time will tell.