Psychopathy

Chapter 12- Shockingly, Part Two

"Wake up, princess. It's showtime."

Ciara trembled as she looked up at her captor, watching as he twirled the hotshot on his fingers. Though she knew it was no use, she couldn't help but pull on her restraints, instinctually trying to get away. He smiled at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. The spot on her stomach was stinging, and she knew that was only the beginning.

He put the hotshot down and adjusted his new mask, not used to wearing it. He hadn't had to wear a mask in three months. He had forgotten to wear it the day before, but he'd only been on screen for one minute and forty-three seconds. Even then, he hadn't looked at the camera straight enough to give Garcia a chance to capture his face.

Ciara hated the new mask. It only covered the top half of his face, but that was enough to screw up any facial-recognition software. But what she hated was the fact that it left that terrible mouth free to do terrible things to her. It left him free to force kisses on her, to suck painful hickeys onto her skin, to bite her if he so pleased. He wasn't much of a biter, but sometimes he wanted to inflict that extra little bit of pain on her.

Pain. That was all her life was now. Everything revolved around pain. The pain she felt now.
The pain she was going to feel in the future. And her, desperately trying to find any way to prevent the pain. She'd learned by now that as long as she played his game, it wouldn't be so bad. But he'd learned where her limit was. Where she wasn't willing to play anymore. And he always brought her to that point, and when she resisted, he'd make her regret it. Every. Single. Time.

"Did you sleep well?" her captor asked, and immediately, her danger senses began firing off. She knew he didn't care how she slept. So what did he want? She narrowed her eyes at him and held her tongue. Whatever it was, he wasn't getting it. He sighed, and she only had enough time to widen her eyes before he pressed the hotshot to her stomach, sending lightning across her skin. He drew the hotshot back as she yelped, amusement crossing his lips. "It's rude to not answer when someone asks a question. So I'll ask again. Did you sleep well?"

"No," she answered.

"Why not?"

"Why do ye care?" she asked, and he closed his eyes, shaking his head, causing her heart to drop in her chest. Never question him. That was one of her rules. And she had forgotten it. How could she forget one of her own rules when, as long as she followed them, they kept him from hurting her? Her eyes glanced towards the hotshot, and he lifted it with a cock of his head. Giving her a chance. How merciful of him. "The table's uncomfortable."

"Well, I can't have you getting too comfortable, now can I?" he asked, walking up to the table. "I won't ever break you if I do that." He put two fingers under her chin and lifted it, before turning her head towards him. Her neck twinged as he did so, but whether that was from her sleeping arrangement or from the hickeys, she wasn't sure.

The thought of him breaking her sent a quiver of fear down her spine. Several times he'd brought her to that edge. Several times she'd approached her breaking point. Several times she'd been ready to scream submission and give him exactly what he wanted if he'd just stop. But every time, he'd pull back just as she got there. Maybe it was luck. Or maybe he didn't want her breaking just yet. She wasn't sure.

She forced herself out of her thoughts. Now was not the time to be lost in her own head. Right now she needed to focus on the present and what she needed to do to survive and to keep him from hurting her. Later, when he was done with her, she could let her thoughts run away with her. Later she could get lost in her own mind to distract herself from the blinding pain. But not now. Never at the beginning of the game. If she got distracted now, she'd slip up and make a mistake. And if she slipped up and made a mistake, he'd hurt her.