Kidnapped

Chapter Ten - Vulnerable.

After a few minutes, he gathers the stacks of cash, slipping them into a zippered bag before finally turning his attention to me.

"Feel better?" His gaze lingers, piercing before it meets mine.

I nod, offering a quiet, "Kind of..." but it's only a half-truth. A dull ache lingers, both emotional and physical, that I can't ignore. His roughness, paired with my inexperience, has left me feeling raw in ways I never expected.

He breathes in sharply through his nose, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Come here," he says, shifting to the edge of the bed.

Without hesitation, I step forward, standing just inches from him. His eyes drift down, taking in the oversized shirt that brushes my thighs, lingering on my bare legs. His hands find my hips, steady and possessive.

"High school, huh?" he murmurs, more to himself, a flicker of satisfaction in his voice.

My pulse quickens, but I don't break his gaze. Slowly, he lifts the hem of my shirt with one hand, revealing the delicate panties he'd chosen for me. His fingers trace the fabric, and a slight tremor runs through me, his touch lingering with a gentle, purposeful pressure that steals my breath for a moment. He tilts his head, watching me.

"Take off your shirt. Let me look at you," he commands, his voice low, unwavering.

A wave of panic crashes over me, my heart pounding like it might break free from my chest. I freeze, unable to move, the weight of his gaze pinning me in place.

"Now," he says, voice sharp, unrelenting.

I move my hands slowly to the hem of my shirt, gripping it tightly, but my arms feel as heavy as lead. "I... I don't want to," I murmur, each word scraping against the dryness in my throat.

His brow lifts, a silent challenge-do I really think I have a choice? But my insecurities close in, tightening like a vice around me, and I can't force myself to take that next step.

"Take off your fucking shirt, or I will."

The harshness in his voice sends a prickle of tears to my eyes, but I slowly inch the fabric up my stomach, pausing as my heart pounds in my ears. Forcing myself, I pull the shirt over my head, setting it on the bed and crossing my arms over my chest.

He smirks at my attempt at modesty before grabbing my wrists, pulling my arms away to leave me exposed. My face flushes instantly, heat rising as I feel him take in every inch of me.

"Jesus, fuck," he murmurs, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.

He releases my wrists, his fingertips grazing down my stomach, leaving a warm, shivering trail in their wake.

Abruptly, he stands, his grip steady as he guides me to the edge of the bed, positioning himself behind me. "Bend over," he commands, his voice rough and demanding. I obey, leaning forward, my forearms resting on the mattress.

He tilts his head, his intense gaze making my pulse race. Bending down, he slips an arm beneath my stomach, pulling my hips back slightly, angling me in place. My cheeks burn, and I close my eyes as his hands trace over the curves of my exposed skin, the lace of my thong offering little protection against the flood of vulnerability.

I rest my head against the mattress, my dark hair cascading over my shoulders, a fragile shield against the surge of embarrassment heating my skin.

A low, approving sound escapes him, rough and unsteady, as if he's barely holding back. His hands settle on my hips, fingers pressing firmly before he gives a slow, deliberate squeeze, savoring the moment.

Then, without warning, his hand pulls back, landing a sharp slap across me. I yelp, startled, and his other hand moves to press my face firmly into the mattress, fingers tangling in my hair as he murmurs, "Shh."

Another slap follows, sharper this time, sending a wave of heat through me that leaves me breathless under his control.

My heart races wildly, caught between panic and a dangerous thrill that's building with each second, a pulse I can't seem to control.

"How does that feel?" His voice is rough with restraint, each word heavy with the tension between us.

I hesitate, afraid to reveal too much, but I finally manage a quiet, "Good... it feels good," though my voice betrays the uncertainty beneath the words.

He draws a slow breath, and another sharp slap lands, harder, making me gasp. "Tell me you like it," he demands.

"I like it, daddy." The words escape before I can stop them, a whisper that feels foreign and irrevocable. My eyes squeeze shut, heat flooding my cheeks. Daddy? What am I even thinking?

A dark, pleased laugh escapes him as he leans close, his lips grazing my ear. "That's my girl." His words make my legs tremble, the tears welling in my eyes.

He straightens, pressing himself against me, letting me feel his desire, unrelenting through the roughness of his jeans.

For a breath-stealing moment, he presses harder, and then, to my surprise, pulls back. Clearing his throat, he lets his hands trail down my spine before giving a final order. "Put your shirt back on."

I grab the shirt without hesitation, tugging it on hastily as I spin to face him, tugging the fabric over my exposed skin. His gaze holds a dangerous warmth, an unreadable glint beneath his smile. "I'm going to shower. Get on the bed."

I scramble to the middle of the mattress, moving quickly to avoid revealing too much, and sit back against the headboard. He finds the cuffs, and before I can react, snaps one around my wrist, fastening the other to the bedframe. I shoot him a wary look but keep quiet as he reaches down, rummaging through one of the bags.

He pulls out a pair of my new panties, balling them up before pressing them firmly into my mouth. My eyes widen, but I don't resist. I'll just spit it out once he's in the shower, I tell myself, trying to calm my pulse.

But as if he can sense my plan, he reaches back into the bag and pulls out a roll of duct tape. My heart hammers as he tears a strip free, the sharp snap of tape echoing in the silence. Leaning over me, he presses it firmly over my mouth, forcing the fabric deeper, nearly making me gag.

I let out a muffled sound, tears stinging my eyes. He smiles, brushing a gentle hand down my cheek. "Good girl. I'll be right back." He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, striding confidently to the bathroom and closing the door behind him.

In the silence that follows, I'm left alone-cuffed, silenced, and completely uncertain of what he plans next.