Page 42 of Heartless Prince

He let it slide that I’d once again forgotten to call him Master. Or maybe I would be punished for it later. That seemed far more likely.

“You’ll see. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He left the room. I let out a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn’t have him breathing down my neck as I faced the arduous task ahead of me.

I kept myself as detached as possible as I wrote down the horrible sentences. My name is Doll. I belong to Elias King.

After the first hour, my hand began to cramp, but I kept going, intent on finishing before the words imprinted themselves on my mind. The more they did, and the more degraded and humiliated I felt, the more likely it was that I would begin to believe the words were true.

I’d seen movies about Stockholm syndrome before, and I knew it affected people even if they tried their hardest to stop it from happening. It was a survival technique, a coping mechanism. If it happened to me, there wasn’t much I could do to stop it. I just had to hope writing these lines wasn’t the first step in that direction for me.

With every line saying ‘My name is Doll’ I thought to myself ‘My name is Tatum Marris’, and with every line saying ‘I belong to Elias King’ I thought ‘I belong only to myself’. It helped me remember that the mind-numbing mental torture was just that—mental. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t tangible. It was all in my head, which Elias couldn’t actually see. He could only presume the damage it was doing to my emotional state. So as long as I chose to believe I was still my own person, he could never take that away from me. I could let him think he had, let him think he’d won, but deep in my mind, I would never be his.

He returned somewhere around dinnertime with another bag and a tray of food. This time it wasn’t the bland slop or plain old salad they usually gave me. It was a divine-smelling bowl of duck and mushroom risotto with truffle oil. I’d always loved risotto, and I wondered if Elias knew that or if this meal was just a coincidence.

“As promised, your reward. A real dinner,” he said, placing the tray on the end of my bed. “Are you going to thank me, Doll?”

“Thank you, Master,” I murmured. Go fuck yourself, Master.

He picked up my notebook and began to leaf through it. As he did so, I dug into the risotto, wolfing mouthfuls down as fast as possible, like it would vanish from under me if I paused for even a second.

“What’s this?” Elias frowned and threw the notebook at me. The tray was yanked away from me a second later.

I stared at the food longingly. I hadn’t even been halfway through it. Then my eyes fell to the notebook page Elias had directed my attention to.

My heart sank. At some stage, my brain must’ve gotten mixed up between my assigned lines and conflicting thoughts. I’d written ‘My name is Tatum Marris. I belong only to myself’ several times.

I looked up at Elias, my eyes wide and my hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to,” I said frantically, terrified that he would tie me up and whip me like he promised earlier. “Please, Master.”

I hoped the use of his preferred title would placate him, but he glared and leaned down, strong fingertips digging into my shoulders as his face hovered only inches from mine. “I guess we’ll have to try it another way, Doll. I had a feeling this might happen.”

He reached into the new bag and pulled out something that looked like skimpy women’s underwear. “Strip, then put these on,” he commanded.

I stood up and did as he said, shame creeping over my cheeks in a hot blush as I removed my clothes and stepped into the black panties. I didn’t want him to see me like this, but I desperately wanted to avoid punishment.

His eyes glimmered with arousal as they roamed over my body, settling on my breasts. My nipples were hard. “Good girl. It really is a shame something so beautiful can be so ugly beneath the surface,” he murmured. Then he pulled something else out of the bag and clicked a button on it.

A breathy moan ripped through me as the underwear began to vibrate. Within seconds, I was too aroused to function, my clit throbbing and my core pulsing.

Elias turned it off. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Against my better judgment, I nodded.

He smirked. “Read the words you’ve written there,” he said, pointing to a line on the notebook. The cattle prod from earlier was back in his hand, along with the remote controller for the panties.

“My name is Tatum Marris. I belong only to myself—ow!” I screamed and fell against the bed as he zapped me with the prod. He must’ve turned the voltage up, because that one hurt far more than the others. I felt it in every inch of my body, every muscle aching and cramping.

“Now read this line.”

“My name is Doll. I belong to Elias King… oh….” I let out another breathy groan as he switched the vibrating panties back on, wishing I wasn’t so physically pliable. I didn’t want him to know how much it turned me on, how amazing it felt, but it was impossible to keep inside.

“See how good it feels to say those words?” Elias said. “Want me to keep it switched on?”

I nodded. As much as I hated him seeing this, it was the first thing that had felt good for me since my arrival here. I wanted to cling to it as much as I could, feel every bit of pleasure I could eke out of it. “Yes, Master.”

“I’ll leave it on if you keep repeating those words.” His perfect lips curled up in a sinful smile.

“My name is Doll,” I began, my legs shaking and juddering. I collapsed onto my knees and moaned. “I belong to Elias King.”

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