His Desire

Tina was curled on her side when the clock hit midday. Its taunting hands stared at her from where the clock was now fixed on the wall. She'd tried reaching it on the first day she had been back in the room but her fingers had missed by an inch of two, so she'd dragged the chair over and reached it that way only to be dismayed to discover it was stuck fast. No amount of tugging could pull it off. She reckoned her captor had put it on that wall as a way of tormenting her. It sat to the right of the bathroom door and with the bed now having been pushed up against the wall with the head end against the wall the window was on, it was in direct view whenever she laid on her side. She could face the other wall but doing so meant her back was to the door and she preferred to be able to keep an eye on it.

The changes to the room threw her and the little security she'd once had felt disturbed. Now if he threw her on the bed she wouldn't be able to escape off the other side. There was also a small set of drawers that sat beneath the clock, a bucket where she was made to wash her clothes in, and a rail fixed securely to the wall in the bathroom for her to hang said clothes. Her captor had certainly been preparing for her return. There was even a small unit fixed above the sink in the bathroom that now held pads and toothpaste. No toothbrush was present so she'd been scrubbing her teeth with her finger since being back in the room. The thickness of the grime that coated her teeth was disgusting.

When the big hand moved to the five the lock turned and Tina sat up as the door opened and her captor walked in. "I forget that I moved all your clothes in with you," he said as he shut the door behind him. With the chain on her ankle there was no need to lock it. "Have you washed yesterday's clothes?" She nodded. "Good girl."

She watched as he went to the drawers and opened the top one, rummaging through the underwear that occupied it. "Put these on," he commanded, throwing an item at her. She picked the balled up item and pulled them apart to discover they were stockings.

"My ankle," she said quietly.

"It moves, as I'm sure you've already tried."

She did as he said and pulled them on, having to put it on her foot and push the material beneath her shackle to be able to bring it completely up her left leg. They came to a stop mid-thigh and for a moment she felt as if they were another layer of protection.

Her captor looked at her, his gaze inspecting her intently. "What's the matter?"

"I-I," she began, breaking off as she pressed a hand to her stomach. "It's nothing."

"Tell me."

"J-just cramps."

She backed across the bed as he moved away from the drawers and sat with her back against the wall, her legs pulled to her chest. His legs were pressed against the bed but he just stood there staring. "Are you ill?"

"No!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't lie to me."

"No, please, I'm not ill, I promise."

He reached across and ran his hand over her forehead. "That's a lie," he said.

Tina knew being ill could be bad. Even if it was something silly, she feared that it could change his mind, make him no longer want her. If he didn't want her, there was only one thing he would do. "It's not, I swear," she pleaded.

He grabbed her wrist and she was forced to scoot across the bed until her legs were dangling off the side and between his legs. "Why must you lie to me?" he asked lowly, one hand resting on her forehead and another grasping her chin. "Your face betrays you. Tell me what's wrong."

She couldn't stop her lip from trembling. "It's just a bad period, I've had one before, it's nothing, really. I swear."

"If it's just a bad period, why are you pale?" He bent slightly so that they were nose to nose.

"My cramps are painful," she said quietly. "That's why I was lying down when you came in."

He studied her for a few moments before letting go of her chin and moving away from the bed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-I didn't want to bother you."

"How thoughtful," he murmured before opening the door and disappearing out the room. He left the door wide open and Tina laid back down with her face buried in the quilt so that she didn't have to see the taunting action. The chain was better than being restrained to the bed but having the door open and her able to walk around but not leave felt more crippling then being unable to move did.

She pressed her hands against her stomach and hoped that today would be the last day of the cramps. She'd had her period for three days now, her flow alternating between heavy with blood clots and light with only a small amount staining her pad, and she knew her captor was waiting for it to end. Normally she'd wish for it to stretch for as long as possible but the cramps she was experiencing had her hoping it'd end soon. The last time she could remember having cramps that were half as bad as the ones she was experiencing now was when she had first started her period, back when she was twelve. Back then it'd been monthly too and she wondered for a moment whether he would have given her the reprieve during her period if she was regular.

It was his footsteps that told her he was back and she tried not to glance at the open door as she lifted her head and slowly sat up. He held out his hand and she could see three tablets sat in his palm, with a glass of water in his other. "Take them," he said.

She couldn't bring herself to listen. Why would he give her something for her cramps? It wasn't the same as when he would bandage her wrists from the cuffs. They were things he could see and she knew it was likely he'd only healed them because of that reason. With the amount of times he called her pretty, a fault such as raw wrists would tarnish that image.

The glass was placed on the bedside table and his hand went straight to her hair, pulling at it to force her to look at him. "You can either take them or I will force them one by one down your throat, the choice is yours," he said calmly. "If your cramps hurt as bad as you say they do, I don't see why you would refuse to take them."

He kept hold of her hair until she hesitantly lifted her hand and took the tablets from his palm. She dropped her shoulders when he let go and accepted the glass he offered her. The tablets looked every bit ominous as she slowly placed them in her mouth before she drank the water. There was nothing she could do if they weren't pain tablets like he'd said.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he patronised, patting her cheek before taking the almost empty glass from her grip.

"Thank you," she mumbled, fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Next time, tell me sooner. The only pain I want you to feel is whenever you're being punished."

She squeezed her eyes shut and hunched forward, pressing her hands to her stomach to pretend it was a cramp. The truth was she was holding her tongue, trying to stop his words from touching her. It took everything in her to not scream at them. He only wanted her to feel pain he inflicted? She was sure that was part of his twisted form of affection and she couldn't stomach it.

"Can I-can I use the toilet?" she asked, taking a breath through her nose. She found that she had to look at him to see his response and had to stop from running across the room when she got off the bed. Once the door to the bathroom was tightly shut behind her she pressed her hands to her mouth and took several large breaths, her teeth scraping against her palm.

Though she wanted to scream and cry and beg to be let go, she used the toilet, changed her pad and washed her face before thoroughly drying it to remove any trace of water. How could this life be better than dying? She gave a shaky breath before flushing the toilet and opening the door. The door that led out of the room was now shut and to her horror her captor was now sat on the bed, his back against the headboard. He patted the spot in front of him and she dreaded what he was going to do.

She reluctantly approached the bed and when he patted the spot again, climbed on and let him turn her so that her back was to him and she was sat between his legs. The worst thing of all was that they were now facing a mirror, one of the new pieces of furniture the room had. It was fixed on the wall the foot of the bed faced and as she trembled in his grasp she could see herself as her captor put his head on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. Her eyes dropped to her lap.

"Look at us, Tina," he murmured in her ear, one hand coming up to her neck and tilting her head when she refused. "Eyes up, that's it."

She bit her tongue as she looked back at the mirror, seeing his hand around her neck, his head on her shoulder, his eyes staring back at her. There was no doubt the fear on her face and though she wanted to look away, not wanting to see herself be subjected to his touches, the hand told her she couldn't.

His other hand settled on her right leg and he ran his fingers up and down her calf, caressing the stocking that spared her the direct contact. "Say my name."

The hand around her neck shifted and he ran his thumb across her chin. "H-Henry," she said quietly.

"Tell me how much you care about me."

Tina took a shaky breath and moved only for his hand to tighten around her neck and the one on her leg to encase her ankle. She dropped her gaze and hunched her shoulders. "I love you," she mumbled, thinking of her mum as she spoke.

"Ah, that's not quite right, is it?" he whispered.

"I love you, Henry." Her words were rewarded with kisses along her jaw. She felt sick looking at her reflection. When was the last time she'd ever said those words to her dad? She knew it had been years since she'd ever been tempted to say them to her mum and now it felt as if they were tainted, the hollowness each time she said them being filled with hatred.

Her captor let go of her ankle and ran his hand up her leg. "Isn't that obedience just beautiful," he said, tilting her head slightly. "But there's still a bit of stubbornness left which is such a shame." She let him move her hand and push her dress up her thigh. "When your period's over we'll see just resilient that stubbornness is," he continued, tracing shapes against her thigh.

Her heart leaped in her throat. "I'm not, please, I'm not, there's no stubbornness," she pleaded.

"No? I don't think that's entirely true."

She dug her fingers in the quilt. "It's true, I promise."

He moved his hand away from her throat and brought it to her forehead, forcing her head to rest against his shoulder. "Eyes on us," he reminded, waiting until she looked back at the mirror. "If there's no stubbornness then I've cured you, but you'll need to say those exact words."

"C-cured me?" she asked tentatively.

"You remember what you got kicked out for, don't you?"

Her blood ran cold and she tried to move her head but found that he was holding her too tight. She could feel her breathing get heavier and she struggled to keep it steady. Reacting would be bad and she was sat in the worst position to provoke him. He had all but caged her in and she had let him without realising.

"Well?" he said, his breath now against her cheek.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Tell me."

She stared at her reflection and knew she couldn't force what he was asking. The hollow use of love was nothing compared to what he wanted. "She heard rumours," she whispered, barely able to talk about her mum.

His hand moved from her thigh back down to her ankle, clamping down tightly as he dragged it towards her, making her knee bend and her foot press flat on the bed. "What were the rumours, Tina?"

"That I was..." She trailed off, suddenly letting out a sob even though she wasn't crying. "That I was a lesbian."

"And are you?"

There it was. The question that she knew she couldn't lie to. How could she deny who she was? Repressing it was easy but admitting that she wasn't a lesbian, that he had cured her, was something she could not do. He could force her to thank him for beating her, for raping her, and he could force her to say she loved him, but he could not force her to say he had changed who she was.

He was watching her intently. Tina pushed her tongue against her teeth, keeping her lips pressed together. The hand on her ankle squeezed as a warning but she couldn't open her mouth. "I thought there was no stubbornness," he said lowly, his head resting on her shoulder. Still she couldn't move her head. "Still no answer? Then you lied."

She wanted to spare herself from being punished but found she couldn't even plead for reprieve, fearing that if she opened her mouth then she wouldn't be able to stop her hysteria. If he left right now then she'd bury her face into one of the pillows and scream until she was hoarse and drained, but that didn't seem likely and she was doing all she could to control herself.

"Oh, Tina," he sighed, pressing his lips to her shoulder. "What am I going to do with you?"

It was then that she looked away from the mirror, unable to watch as he was undoubtedly thinking of how to punish her. There was a difference between having to look at her captor and having to look at herself with him. She could endure more when it was happening to her than when she could see it being done to her. It was a different form of torture; one she wasn't sure she could cope with. Both her hands were straining against the quilt and she had to stop herself from kicking out the leg his hand was holding. His words were increasing her fear and she wanted to tear herself from his grip.

"Say my name," he demanded. She didn't. She couldn't. There were no words she could say, not at that moment. There was nothing she could do other than stay quiet even if it made him angry. His hand moved from her forehead to her neck, fingers pressing against her skin. "Say it."

She cried out when he moved his hand to the back of her neck and pushed her face down onto the bed. Her hands broke away from the quilt and she tried to push up, to move before he trapped her again, but he managed to sit across her back and pin her there as his upper body pressed hers down heavily.

"What is this?" he murmured, using his hand to squeeze her cheeks together. "Didn't you just promise that there was no stubbornness? We were having such a nice time. Don't make me mad."

Tina closed her eyes and took in several shallow and shaky breaths. Her hysteria was still there, bubbling away in her chest, and each time he spoke she could feel her ability to hold it back weakening. This couldn't be happening. She'd gone so long since her last outburst. Her escape attempt wasn't one, that was just a spur of the moment action, and she remembered how she'd gained a broken finger in the outburst when he'd had her pinned to the floor of the cottage. She'd done so well to conceal it all since then.

When she didn't reply he pushed her head into the bed before climbing off, his footsteps heavy as he paced away from the bed. "You want to test me, is that it?" he snapped, making her flinch. "You still think you're able to beat me?" She hadn't moved from her spot when he strode back to the bed and dragged her up by her hair, making her kneel. "You're nothing without me. I own you. You're mine, Tina, and you always will be."

Her teeth were pressed together painfully, her thighs trembled as she held herself up to stop her roots being pulled out, but she still didn't speak.

"Tell me you're mine," he said, bringing his face close to hers. "Open your mouth and say it."

There were tears in her eyes and her heart was beating frantically. He threw her back hard, her head hitting the wall as she fell onto the bed. She stared at him in fear, her head pounding and she could only watch as he stalked out the room and slammed the door behind him. She laid there for a few moments until she couldn't keep her hysteria silent, and she scrambled for a pillow, holding it tightly against her face as she screamed.

She was crying and screaming and hunched over, shaking as her fear took hold. Everything she had wanted to say came out in her scream, ridding herself of every word that she knew would bring punishment. She heaved and gagged into the pillow, the only time she was able to release everything she'd been feeling since she'd given up pleading for him to let her go. It took a while until she could stop, her throat now sore enough to make her wince as she swallowed. The pillow was drenched and it stuck to her cheeks as she pulled it away, her fingers clutching at it desperately.

"I'm still alive," she muttered, letting the pillow drop from her hands. She pressed her hands hard against her eyes before climbing off the bed, hurrying into the bathroom to wash her face and change her pad. There was no doubt she'd angered him but she was sure it was nothing compared to what her words would've provoked.

Back in the room she paced, arms clutching her torso. Whenever he came back she'd have to beg his forgiveness, pretend that she hadn't replied for another reason and hope he wouldn't punish her too much. She tried to think of something she could say that he might believe, her thoughts lingering on what he'd tried to force her to say. She'd never be able to say what he wanted...but could she try to imply it?

Her eyes went to the window and she tentatively approached it. She inspected the boards, trying to see whether there was any indication that he'd discovered the loose one, and when she found none she reached forward and felt the board, relief flooding through her body. It was still there, her chance to knock him down, but now that she was chained it didn't look as if she'd be able to use it any time soon. Maybe he had discovered it and that was why she was chained? It was quite possible.

The pillow was still damp so Tina flipped it over and swapped it with the other one, not wanting her captor to see any trace of her slight breakdown. Would she ever be able to keep it repressed entirely? An imminent escape didn't seem at all likely and the more he forced her to do things, the more she felt unable to abide by his games. Despite having been his captive for what felt like a long time, she was consumed with more fear now than she had been when she woke up bound to the bed.

She kept expecting him to come back, eager to punish her for not obeying him, but the more she watched the clock the more time seemed to pass. The afternoon went by and she felt more anxious, alternating between pacing to keep herself calm and curling into herself on the bed. She was still certain that not replying had been the best option, knowing that the words she wanted to scream would only rile him, but it felt as if she might've underestimated how angry it would make him.

When the time hit for his next visit, fear caught her throat when it slipped later and later with no sign of her captor. To make matters worse, this visit was when she'd get her second meal of the day. Losing it made her think that maybe she should have answered. Would he starve her until she said those words? She hoped not.

She slept fitfully that night, constantly stirring from fear of his presence, and when she was unable to close her eyes she stayed staring at the clock. The only times she moved from the bed was to use the toilet and fill the glass that'd been left in the room. She found that she would fill it up every hour, wanting to drown her hunger in hopes that he might come back in; and as the day dragged on, she filled it every half hour.

When he hadn't come at midday she spent the afternoon at the window, feeling and checking the other boards that kept the window from being an escape route. They were all sturdy and she was beginning to think that the only way she'd managed to loosen the one she had was because it hadn't been that strong in the first place.

Tina curled up in the bath, preferring to spend her time there rather than the bed that held worse memories, and another full day passed without her captor bringing her food. Her period had stopped, something which she knew he would have acted on upon finding out, but it did nothing to stop the hunger. The water was able to placate it but there was still a gnawing ache, reminding her that she needed food.

On the third day she approached the door cautiously, a hand coming to the handle and trying it. Naturally, it was locked, but she hadn't expected otherwise. She swallowed harshly and pressed her ear against it, trying to see whether he was outside her door to hear her anxiety about the starvation he was putting her through, and when she couldn't hear anything she took a step back, digging her fingers into her palms.

"Henry?" she called tentatively, repeating it when she realised it wasn't loud enough. "Henry? Please, I'm sorry."

What did he want her to do? There wasn't much she could do in this room and her resolution to call for him, to beg him to return so that she could have food, wasn't one she thought would actually work. Who knew where he was? Even if he was in the house, he might not be able to hear her calls, and even if he did hear them, who's to say he would listen? She wondered, with a weight of dread, whether this was his way of trying to kill her.

She pressed against the door and brought her hand up, curling it into a fist and just holding it there. Yet another time her captor was forcing her to beg for him to come back. It made her sick to have to do that but she remembered how weak, how horrible it was when she was starved when she'd first been taken. Her first knock was hesitant and quiet, then her next one was loud. "I'm sorry! I was being difficult and-and inconsiderate. Please, Henry, I don't-don't--" She stopped, biting her tongue. I don't want to die here. "I don't want to make you mad. I'm your--your good girl."

There was no noise, no indication that he'd heard her, and she broke away from the door and pressed her palms into her eyes. What had she done? What could she do? She was trapped in this room, chain preventing her from even an impossible escape out the window, and there was no way she could get food unless he decided to bring her it. She was entirely dependent on him and now her attempt at saving herself a hard beating had backfired. Maybe she should have spoken, told him everything that had been bubbling in her chest. He was more likely to have physically punished her then starved her at those words. But she believed him when he said he would cut her tongue out and whenever she was hysterical, she always called him crazy.

She went into the bathroom and filled the glass up three times before she sat by the radiator and inspected the end of the chain that was connected to it. He was too prepared for her, the cuff being around the piping that ran into the wall. There was no way she would be able to pull it away and there was no chance she would be able to get the cuff off without its key. Disheartened, she laid on her side and faced the door.

Several hours passed before she got up and approached the door again, this time knocking on it in quick succession. "Henry, please! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, I'll do anything! Just please come back!" she cried, letting her hand unfold so that she was now hammering on the door.

When her hand started to hurt she gave up, dragging herself over to the bed and curling onto her side as she held her head and gripped her hair tightly. She was going to die here. Oh god, she was going to die here, chained to a radiator and begging for her captor. This couldn't be happening. None of her escape attempts had resulted in being starved but she supposed it showed how twisted he really was to decide to starve her to death just because she didn't answer him. Three days wasn't enough to die, she knew that, but he hadn't come into the room, hadn't come to torment her, and that was the biggest indication. He'd come without food before, never wanting to pass up a chance to torment her more than he already did.

She was already aware of how painful it was to go an excessive amount of time without any food and she dreaded the thought of more pain as she starved for longer. A thought edged into her head, one that said that perhaps if she gave him the answer he wanted, he'd return, but she banished it at once. Was she really having to choose between denying herself and death? Was her sexuality really that important that she would die before she ever admitted that someone had cured her? There was no doubt it was part of her, that it was already a huge part in shaping her life, but big enough that she'd die for it?

Tina begun to wonder how simple her life would have been had she liked men, had her first time with one been one that had been enjoyable. Her mother wouldn't have kicked her out and then maybe she wouldn't have been abducted. Her captor wouldn't have seen her in the homeless shelter and there would really have been no way for him to get close enough like he did. Her thoughts bitterly turned to her mum and she wondered whether she would even care about this choice she was facing. She knew her dad would tell her to survive but that was difficult when what was being asked of her was something that stripped her of who she was. Losing her hair had been traumatic but that was something her captor could physically take from her - he would never be able to take her sexuality and cut it out of her.

She sat up on the bed and rested her head on her knees. Had he not decided to torment her with the mirror, he would be here with her now, forcing her out of her clothes and onto the same bed she was sat. As she stared at the clock a sickening thought engulfed her. Tentatively leaving the bed and approaching the door, she pressed her hands tightly against her stomach as she felt the urge to be sick. She couldn't say this, she really couldn't. "Henry?" she called, her voice wavering. Bile was in her throat and she had to swallow it as she took the next step that would put her against the door. "My-my-I want--" She broke off, her hands flying to her mouth as if they could stop her words. She didn't want to say this, the thought of having to do what she was going to do made her hate herself, but she couldn't think of anything else left for her to try. Begging had got her nowhere.

She knocked a few times, an attempt to gain his attention and to prolong it, before she took a deep breath, one that caught in her throat. "My...my period's over," she called, her voice lowering as each word tumbled out. She knew what they were insinuating, what it meant for her to not be on her period, and as she backed away from the door she had to fly into the bathroom and sink down by the toilet as the sick she couldn't keep down came spilling out. You can rape me again. She heaved at that thought and deliberately hit her head against the cistern before she gripped the seat hard and cried.

Is this what she had been reduced to? Where she'd let him know that her reprieve had finished instead of wishing it went on for longer? It hurt her to say those words but he was forcing her to choose between two horrible things and she had to choose the one that hurt less. She didn't even know if it'd work, if he heard what she had said and decided it answered his question after all. The last words he had said to her implied that he had the patience to wait her out, to force her hand and make her submit to him, and it'd only taken her three days to start her begging. If this had happened at the start, she knew she wouldn't have begged, not after only three days. She had more strength, more resilience then and three days locked in the room without his company would have been a blessing. Bitterly she wondered whether she should have just stayed quiet but then acknowledged that if she ended up dying as his captive, she had least wanted the chance of her body being found. She didn't want to die without her parents being able to know the truth.

She laid her arms across the toilet seat and placed her head on them. With nothing more she could do, she slowly drifted off to sleep still knelt in front of the toilet. Something startled her awake and Tina wasn't sure what it was until she opened her eyes and saw that her captor was leaning against the bath, watching her. She couldn't stop flinching at the surprise, her heart thudding hard at the surprise of his presence. An apology automatically bubbled at her lips but she held it in, not sure whether speaking first would be the best thing. So she waited, her back now pressed against the wall.

"What did you learn?" he asked casually, his arms folded across his chest.

That you've reduced me more than I imagined. "I depend on you," she said quietly.

"And?"

"That you're right. I thought I could...lie and I didn't think of the con-consequences."

While he just watched her, she didn't look away, not wanting to give him another reason to leave and not return. Hopefully he accepted that and let this pass, it might be wishful thinking but three days of being starved was more than enough punishment in her mind. Then again their minds were on two different wavelengths considering the fact that he thought it was acceptable to abduct someone and subject them to more than just depriving them of their freedom. It was inevitable that she'd have to do more than just admit that he was right. She'd grovel at his feet if she had to, though she did hope it didn't come to that.

He pushed away from the bath and she tried not to flinch. "Wash your mouth out," he said before leaving the bathroom and making her bite her palm. She counted to three before she moved from the floor, rising to her feet shakily and doing what he said. Once she was sure all trace of sick was gone from her mouth, she slowly inched out of the bathroom, hesitating when she saw that he was stood beside the bed, his back towards her. There was no doubt that he heard the chain as she stepped into the room. "Come here."

She approached the bed, cautiously sitting at the edge like he had indicated. He pulled her leg up, forcing her to brace her hands behind her to stop her from falling back, and watched as he unlocked the shackle and dropped her foot. Despite the release, dread washed over her. Her captor moved away and went over to the door, opening it and motioning for her to go over to him. She didn't want to, she really didn't want to because she knew it wouldn't be for anything good, but the choice wasn't hers and she certainly didn't want to anger him more than she already had.

When she was close enough he grabbed her by the arm and forced her down the hall, making sure she was ahead of him as they approached the stairs. He stopped, gripping her harder and yanking her against him. "Would you like me to push you down the stairs?" he said lowly, his breath warm against her cheek.

"N-no," she stuttered, her free arm going out to press against the wall as if she could hold onto it to stop him from doing so.

"If you did, I wouldn't make you endure the punishment that you have. After all, I know how much you hate it."

She tried to think what he could be on about but he was too close, his threat too imminent, and all she could see were the stairs looming ahead of her and the pain that would occur if he decided to push her. If she hit her head hard enough, it could kill her, not to mention landing on her side could break a rib and breaking her fingers were fairly harmless compared to the damage a broken rib could cause. "No, please, I don't."

"Very well." He pushed her forward, making her heart suddenly pound painfully at the thought of being pushed, and forced her down the stairs, turning so that they now walked down the hall next to the stairs. The first indication she got was the light switch that sat next to a door and before she could work out what that meant, her captor opened the door and she saw the shackles that dangled from the ceiling. She tried to stop, to not let him force her into the room, but her struggle was nothing against his strength and he successfully got her into the room and wrestled one hand above her hand and into a shackle.

"Oh, please, no, not this," she begged, her fear already beginning to take root. She didn't know what it was about this room that made her so scared of being alone in the dark, but it was enough that she didn't want to have to endure it a second time. "Don't do this, oh God, don't do this, please."

He just watched her, not moving to secure her other wrist. "I did say that I knew you hated this punishment," he said casually. "It's quite thrilling to witness your complete terror of this room. I know that you hate being restrained and unable to see, but this is really something else."

"I can't do this, please don't make me," she cried, tugging furiously at the one wrist already shackled.

"The thing is, Tina, you really bring this upon yourself." He grabbed her other wrist and she fought desperately to not let it go above her head but found that it was futile as he managed to place it in the other shackle, making her arms and shoulders strain painfully and her feet raise, leaving only her toes touching the cold floor. "I am impressed that you told me your period is over. I never realised you enjoyed our time together so much," he taunted, running a hand over her cheek. "But I couldn't let you go unpunished, could I? You have this habit of lying, much like a child, and it's really quite annoying. No matter how many times I tell you that I hate liars, you simply continue to do so. Leaving you in that room, able to walk about freely, didn't feel like much of a punishment, even with your begging, so now you get to spend a few hours alone to reflect on just why you keep insisting on lying to me."

She struggled furiously, pulling her arms taunt and making her shoulders strain. "No, no, no, don't leave me, don't leave me!" she pleaded as he moved away from her and went to the door. "Don't, please don't, oh God, please!"

Tina sobbed in fear when he closed the door and engulfed her in darkness.