In the captivity of your power.

Darkness. The blindfold prevents her from seeing where she is. Only a voice—low, calm, with a barely perceptible mocking undertone—glides over her skin, making her heart beat faster.

— You're trembling

— his fingers traced her shoulder, and she gasped sharply. — But not from fear.

She wanted to object, to say something sharp, but her tongue seemed glued to the roof of her mouth. His touch burned, even through the fabric of her dress.

His hand slid down, wrapping around her waist, and she felt

a treacherous warmth spreading through her stomach.

— I hate you, — she whispered, but her body arched towards him.

— You're lying, — he smirked. — And we'll check that.

His fingers slowly untied the blindfold, and she squeezed her eyes shut from the sudden light. When her eyes adjusted, a face appeared before her—sharp features, dark eyes that held a dangerous game. The room turned out to be spacious but windowless: a soft carpet, a bed with black linens, a massive door with an electronic lock.

— Where am I? — her voice sounded hoarse, but he only grinned.

— Where you belong.

He walked over to a table with a bottle of wine, poured a glass, and handed it to her. She didn't move, clenching her fists.

— I won't drink with you.

— I didn't ask, — his gaze hardened. — You will drink. Because your body is already betraying you

See how that vein on your neck is throbbing?

He ran a finger along her throat, and she jerked sharply, but he didn't let her pull away. The wine was sweet, with a tart aftertaste. It warmed her from within, and his intense gaze warmed her from without.

— Why did you kidnap me? — she whispered.

— Because you're too beautiful when you're angry.

His hand slid under her dress, his palm cupped her thigh, and her breath caught. Hatred and desire mixed into a tight knot in her chest.

— I

won't allow

— You already have, — he pressed her against the wall, feeling her body tremble. — You just haven't realized it yet.

His lips touched her neck, and she squeezed her eyes shut, but not from fear. His fingers gripped her hips so tightly that bruises were sure to form. She hated him. Hated him for daring to touch her. For her body responding to his touch.

"No, no, no

It's just a reaction, instincts, nothing more," she fiercely convinced herself, but her breathing was already faltering, and a treacherous pulse throbbed between her legs.

— You think you can just take me by force? — her voice trembled, but not from fear. From rage.

He pulled back, studying her face.

— I'm not a rapist. I want you to ask for it yourself.

She snorted, but he only ran a finger over her lower lip, silencing her.

— You're already asking. Your body is screaming for it. Only your proud mind is still resisting.

He released her, walked over to the bed, and sat down, sprawling with the air of a man who held all the power, which, indeed, he did.

— Come to me.

— Never.

— Are you sure? — his voice became dangerous. — Last chance to come on your own.

She clenched her teeth. "I won't give in. I won't give him that pleasure."

But when he slowly rose and took a step towards her, her heart began to race.

— Fine. Then I'll make you.

He took her chin and looked intently into her eyes.

— You're not afraid of me. You're afraid of yourself.

His words struck harder than his touch.

She grabbed his hair, yanking his head back sharply—the pain should have made him let go. But he only laughed, low and deep, and it sounded more dangerous than any threat.

— That's better, — he whispered, and his hands closed around her wrists, pinning them to the wall.

She arched, trying to break free, but every movement only pressed her more firmly against him. His body was hard, hot, and a treacherous warmth spread through her stomach despite all her rage.

— I hate you! — she exhaled, but her voice wavered.

— You're lying, — he ran his tongue along her ear, and she shuddered. — You hate the fact that you want me.

His knee parted her thighs, and she froze, feeling everything inside clench with anticipation.

"Damn

No, I can't

This is wrong

"

But her body was no longer listening.

He felt it.

— Fight, — he whispered mockingly. — I like how you do it.

And then she truly became furious.

Her resistance only spurred him on. That dangerous fire flared in his eyes—cold, calculating, without a hint of pity.

— Naughty girl, — his voice was quiet but with such firmness that goosebumps ran over her skin. His breath burned her neck as he leaned in and whispered:

— Since you've decided to fight—face the consequences.

His hand came down on her backside—a loud slap echoed in the quiet room. She cried out more from surprise than pain, but humiliation made her shrink.

— On your knees.

She froze.

— I won't

— Now.

His tone left no choice.

She stood still, clenching her fists. Her lips trembled, but not from fear—from rage.

— I won't get on my knees. Not for you. Not for anyone.

— You're mistaken.

He stepped forward. She instinctively recoiled, but her back was already against the wall. His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

— You're already on your knees. You just haven't realized it yet.

With a sharp movement, he turned her around, pushing her forward. She managed to brace her hands on the floor, but he was faster—his foot pressed between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the ground.

— See? — his voice came from above as she tried to break free. — You're already where I said.

His hand seized her wrist, twisting it behind her back. Pain shot through her shoulder, and she groaned.

— You could have done it yourself. But you chose pain.

— Now you'll remember who's in charge here.

She broke free for a moment—her body tensed for a lunge towards the door, her fingers already sliding over the cold handle…

Click.

A leather belt wrapped around her wrists, yanking them sharply behind her back. She cried out, but the sound turned into a wheeze as he tightened the knot, pulling the free end between her shoulder blades.

— I warned you.

His voice sounded calm, but there was a dangerous note in it. His fingers slid along the rope, checking the tension, and she felt the knots dig into her skin with every breath.

— You could have just submitted.

He turned her towards the bed, and she stumbled—without her hands, her balance was lost. Her knees hit the floor, but he didn't let her fall, grabbing her hair sharply.

— Look.

Two more ropes lay on the blanket before her—thin, silken, lethally soft.

— You'll choose yourself…

He ran one along her neck, and she trembled.

— …whether they'll be an ornament…

With a sharp motion, he flipped her over the edge of the bed, and the world turned upside down.

— …or a punishment.

The silken ropes wound around her body with surgical precision—every movement only tightened the knots further. First her wrists, crossed behind her back. Then—a loop around her waist, pulling her elbows so that her chest arched forward. Finally—her ankles, spread apart and tied to the bedposts. She couldn't move. Only breathe—rapidly, unevenly. Only feel—how his fingers slide along her thigh, rising to the most forbidden place…

— See? – his voice sounded like warm honey, enveloping her consciousness. – You're all mine.

He deliberately avoided the most sensitive spots—only hints, only promises of touch.

— I… hate… you… – her voice trembled, but without its former strength.

— You're lying.

His palm slapped the inside of her thigh—not painfully, but humiliatingly. She cried out, and immediately felt a treacherous warmth between her legs.

— Your body has already made its choice.

— Now—be quiet and take it.

Her body arched into a taut bow when his fingers finally touched her most intimate part. The ropes dug into her skin, but she no longer felt pain—only unbearable tension tightening her lower abdomen.

— You're trembling

– he deliberately slowed his movements, sliding over the wet folds but avoiding her clitoris. – How beautiful.

She moaned, trying to close her thighs, but the ropes didn't give an inch of freedom.

— S-stop

— No.

His finger entered her sharply, without warning, and she cried out—not from pain, but from the shock of her own reaction. Her body itself strained towards him, treacherously clenching around him.

— See? – he added a second finger, stretching her. – You can't do without it anymore.

Her breathing turned into rapid gasps. Her stomach convulsed. Her vision blurred.

— I

I

— Come.

But when her body froze on the edge, he abruptly removed his hand.

Her body trembled, her abdominal muscles convulsed, and between her legs pulsed an unbearable, hot emptiness. Tears rolled down her cheeks, mixing with sweat on her chest.

— Please

— her voice broke into a hoarse whisper before she realized she had said it aloud.

He froze above her, his breathing also uneven.

— Please

what?

His fingers slid over the inside of her thigh again, but not touching where she needed.

— Say it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, but the words escaped on their own:

— Let me come.

Silence. Then—a low chuckle that sent shivers down her spine.

— That's better.

— E-enough

He rose, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

— Now you can hate me again.

But when he untied the knots, her fingers clutched his shirt—too tightly for hatred.

Her body still trembled from the last spasms, her skin burned from the ropes, when he abruptly pulled away.

— You lost.

His voice was icy, but a dangerous fire smoldered in his eyes. He stood up, adjusting his sleeves as if he had just finished a business meeting, not brought her to a shameless tremor. She didn't answer. Her lips were bitten until they bled, her fingers dug into the mattress.

"No. No. No" — pounded in her temples.

But between her legs, a treacherous warmth still pulsed. He walked to the door, stopped, without turning around:

— Tomorrow—we'll repeat it.

The click of the lock. Silence.And only then did she unclench her palms, realizing: She lost—but wants a rematch.