Page 28 of Cruel Master
I shift under the blanket, then catch myself. Be careful. Don’t make it obvious.
It’s hard, though. I’m not in the mood for careful, secretive touching. I want to grind against my hand, shove my fingers into my pussy, and stretch myself out.
Or have Saldar’s cock do it for me.
I freeze. No. No, no, no, I’m not going down that road. Scratching my own physical itch is one thing, but I’m not going to imagine getting assaulted by my captor while I’m doing it. Nope. Absolutely not.
I bet he’d feel good, though.
Shut the fuck up.
Badly behaved inner voice silenced, I move my fingers again. Don’t drag it out. More time equals more chance of discovery. I rub my clit with quick, practiced strokes, thinking about absolutely everything except Saldar.
Relief comes quickly, a wash of pleasure passing through me in a heady wave. My pussy clenches, and I wish I had something inside it, but beggars can’t be choosers. Did I manage to keep my face blank? I think so. Pretty sure, anyway.
In the aftermath, a little of the shame I should probably have been feeling all along sneaks in. Maybe I deserve to be here. What sort of lunatic masturbates on the floor of their prison cell? It should be the absolute last thing on my mind. I should be working on an escape plan. Meditating. Training my body to stay strong.
Not squirming about in a blanket, touching myself.
“I don’t think he’ll be happy you did that.”
My eyes fly open, and I just manage to hold in a scream at the female voice echoing through my prison. Instinct tells me to jump to my feet, but I hold myself back. This could be the person who sent the Morse code message. Though if it is, she’s choosing a really fucked-up way to introduce herself.
My skin flushes hot, and I clear my throat, fighting down embarrassment. How did this person—whoever she is—know what I was doing? I manage, “Who are you? Does Saldar know you’re talking to me?”
She gives a little laugh, and something about it is unsettling. It creeps up my spine, and my skin tingles. It’s familiar in the oddest way. “Saldar? No,Saldardoesn’t know. I’ve looped his feed. He thinks you're still wrapped in the blanket.”
She gives his name an amused emphasis. The weird familiarity tugs at me, but I can’t catch it. I push it to the back of my mind. This could be my chance to get the fuck out of here, especially if this woman can access Saldar’s security systems. “Can you let me out? Where am I? Can you—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that. But maybe I can help you a little. I’d like to be friends.”
Friends? Whoever the hell this woman is wants to be friends? What sort of bullshit is that? I should keep calm—she’s my only hope at this point—but any sense I might have had crumbles away at that word.
Fucking friends.
“What the fuck are you talking about? I need to get out. Why won’t you help?” I’m sitting up now, stabbing a finger into the empty air, seeking a nonexistent target. “He’s keeping me here.He’s—”
“Oh dear. He’s on his way. I’ll have to go.” I whip around to stare at the door. There’s a long pause before the woman adds, “He’s recording your vitals all the time. Your brain activity too. When you do…the thing you just did…he knows. You’ll get in trouble.”
Oh dear.
Something about that phrase, and the way she said it, pings in my brain. I don’t know why when the rest of what she just said was far more horrifying. He’s recording my brain activity? What in the actual fucking hell?
“Lie back down so I can restart the feed. He’ll be here in a couple of minutes.”
I pause for a heartbeat. I already have one person bossing me around, and zero desire to add this random stranger to that list. But she could be useful. If I blow her cover, I lose all hope.
I lie down, squeeze my eyes shut, and pretend to sleep.
Two minutes. He’ll be here in two minutes. I replay the words, and adrenaline rockets through me. In two minutes, he’ll be opening the door. He doesn’t know I know he’s coming. He might not check the monitors before he opens the door.
I might catch him by surprise and get past him.
It’s the longest of all long shots, but it’s not impossible. For all I know, I’m being held in an apartment on a busy street. I’ve read of weirder things happening. If I can get past him, there’s at least a hope I might be able to catch someone’s attention.
But what will he do to me if it doesn’t work? I hesitate, fear freezing my limbs until I force them to move. If I start thinking like that, I’ll be here forever. The mysterious woman didn’t seem like she was going to be much help, and I can’t rely on a Morse code message… I need to take every chance, however tiny, to escape.
I throw off the blanket and crouch at the door in a runner's stance. Saldar looks strong, but I’m fast. If it comes to a chase, maybe I could outrun him. It’s cold, but sweat breaks out on my body as I wait for the door to click. I strain my ears for sound. I’ve stopped noticing the trickle of the stream, but now it’s all I can hear.
