Page 152 of Spark

“We will be going back to the drawing board, Jaden. You will not leave this room until you’ve abandoned your hopes for revenge, and I am satisfied with your behavior. You will remain here until you understand that your loyalty to me is the only thing that will release you from everything you’re going to endure down here.”

More silent sobs, more shaking, and this time, the tears finally flowed. We were already making progress.

“I hope you’re ready, princess. Because I have a feeling we’re going to be down here for a very long time.”

52

Broken

It took Jaden a full month and a half before she finally broke. She spent the first week sleeping in her cage, and the second week—when she behaved better—completely restrained to the bed; her only reprieve was when I allowed her to use the bathroom or to bathe. If she behaved, I would only cuff her wrists together while I warmed her body with my own, massaging the blood flow back into her arms.

For every ounce of reluctance or mere glimmer of ungratefulness, I responded with that much more cruelty. If she wanted my mercy, she’d better damn well smile for it and show me how much it meant to her; otherwise, I had no reason to give it. If I didn’t feel her desperation for me, then I wasn’t working hard enough to extract it. For every small moment she denied me, whether it was defiance or false indifference, I punished her severely. Pain was a constant companion for her for a long time. I didn’t care if she was denying an orgasm or an emotion, I would not have her hiding a thing from me.

The first few days had been difficult. Her first week was filled with nothing but punishments. I’d burned her with wax, whipped her with leather, beaten her with wood, and drained every single tear and scream from her body. For every word of backtalk, I made sure she tasted blood in her mouth. It didn’t take long for her pride to leave her as she begged and pleaded with me to stop. It wasn’t happening. If she wasn’t restrained to the bed, she was restrained somewhere else within the room, submitting to the pain she knew she owed.

At first, she had fought me in her restraints as best she could as I left her legs to move freely, but that was only because I wanted to be able to move them in different positions when I fucked her. I threatened to numb her legs with an anesthetic if she kicked me, and I only had to follow through once on the second day. She was much more cooperative after that.

On the days when she did finally give in to me—when she gave me what I wanted and took her punishments well—the pleasure I rewarded her with was far greater than anything she’d ever experienced. I was tender, gentle, passionate—everything she could have ever wanted or needed as she grew dependent on my comfort. If she denied me, I made sure to leave her wanting for the rest of the night. If she thought she was lonely and isolated before, she had no idea how reliant she was about to become on my attention and affection alone.

Eventually, her pride disappeared altogether, and she made sure to express her gratefulness to me at every turn. The feeling I got when she clung to me, seeking a shield from the cold her body endured in my absence, was heaven. She’d bury her face in my chest, and as she warmed her little nose, she’d inadvertently warm my dead heart.

After the third week, I let her roam the room freely, but the moment I entered that door, she had less than three seconds to get down on her knees and show me the respect I deserved. Down here, I was her fucking Master, and if I had to treat her like the slave she had been back at the warehouse to get her to understand her place, then so be it. If she disobeyed me even once, she returned to her cage. After two weeks of strict confinement, she only risked that punishment once. There were no more attempts of intentionally displeasing me after that.

I made sure she depended on me for everything. I woke her, bathed her, warmed her, read to her, clothed her if she was good, fed her, punished her, pleasured her, and put her to sleep. I cared for her every need. She wasn’t allowed to do anything on her own without my permission, except relieve herself, and if she did, there was trouble for her.

Again, in the beginning, she would experiment with her freedom, and again, she would lose it. It was a pattern with her. She’d behave well up until I tested her with more responsibility. She’d always fuck it up, thinking she could outsmart me; thinking I wouldn’t see when she tried to manipulate me into sympathizing with her.

Eventually, she learned to stop trying, to take what I gave her in stride until she finally came to terms with what her ultimate goal was: to please me. By the fourth week, pleasing me motivated everything she did, but I didn’t want her motivation simply to be to get out of the room. I wanted her to please me because it pleased her to do so. I wanted her to make me happy because she wanted to, not because she had to. But that conditioning would be the result of Stockholm syndrome, and we simply weren’t there yet.

When I moved to leave her, the panic in her voice had me smiling on the inside. She didn’t like it when I left her alone, but she didn’t realize how important her isolation was. I learned the most from her when she was alone, watching to see if she would fall into old routines or practices. After Jaden’s first week of being able to roam freely, she trained. She’d exercise until her face was beet red—shadowboxing, advanced kicks, running in place, push-ups, sit-ups, crunches, planks, yoga, everything she could do to not only stay in shape but also to stay warm. When she wasn’t exercising, she’d meditate or stretch. It wasn’t as if I gave her much to do in there. But after a few weeks, her behavior began to change. Each day, she engaged in a little less training; there was less rage in her shadowboxing, and her kicks lacked their usual flair.

Some days, she wouldn’t train at all and spent hours crying into the pillows. She was losing hope, and though it broke my heart to see her in such pain, I knew it was necessary. She was beginning to see her training as pointless, and she was slowly starting to give up. She’d spend more time either curled in a ball on the bed, her small fingers tracing over my name on her wrists, or pacing the room while her eyes watched the door anxiously. She was waiting for me—waiting for me to free her from her isolated torment. But she would not be free because of pity or for my overwhelming desire to have her at my side again. I had a goal that I needed to accomplish, and if I stopped now, I feared the whole process would be ruined, and I’d have to start completely over.

When I did eventually go to her, the happiness that flashed on her face made me smile. I wanted her to look at me like that forever. But just as I left, her smile would fade, and she would curl back into a depressing state of loneliness. I wanted to bring her back to the light so badly, but I wasn’t sure if she was ready. I needed to find out for sure.

When I walked into the room in the morning, Jaden was still asleep in the bed, curled up on her side and facing the door. She looked so sweet and innocent in her sleep; my redheaded angel that I was going to twist into a new demon.

Gently sitting on the bed, I tucked the stray hair that fell over her face behind her ear. The slight motion was enough to make her stir.

“Wake up, princess,” I whispered, my hand lovingly caressing her face.

Her lids slowly lifted just enough to reveal the beautiful amber behind them. A sleepy smile graced her lips as she moved her head into my lap, nudging her face against my thigh. Warmth flooded my chest at her reaction to me, and I rewarded her by running my fingers through the soft strands of her hair. She allowed a quiet moan of pleasure to leave her throat, practically purring in my lap like a sexy little kitten. I continued to stroke her hair for only a few more seconds before I finally gripped her roots tightly and held firm, sending a wave of shock over Jaden’s body.

“Time for breakfast,” I drawled, and she knew exactly what that meant.

Without a single second of hesitation, Jaden moved to pull down the zipper of my pants. She released my painfully hard cock from its confines only for it to become buried in the back of her throat. She bobbed her head and sucked hard just the way I liked until my self-control met its match. I gripped the sides of her head and fucked her mouth like the savage I was until my cum was shooting down her throat. And she swallowed it all as if she were starving for it.

When I was satisfied, I pushed Jaden’s naked body back against the bed and pried her legs apart. My tongue was inside her in seconds, lapping and sucking at my own breakfast while her taste drove me insane. She was already soaking wet for me.

Jaden’s back arched, her hands digging into the sheets as soft moans of pleasure left her mouth. My hands trailed up her hips, smoothing over her soft stomach until they were clutching at her breasts, pinching and teasing her nipples and causing her to twitch under my tongue.

“Oh, God, Darren… please… let me come,” she groaned. If she asked, and I was happy, I’d give her what she wanted.

“Come,” I ordered her, sucking her clit into my mouth and creating that painful pleasure she loved so much.

My name left her lips in a cry of ecstasy, and it did things to me I could never explain. It made my ego soar, knowing I could bring her body to such heights.

“Look at me,” I said, and her eyes immediately found mine.

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