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The metal was cold and hard around my slim ankle, a dragging weight that seemed almost too much to bear. I didn't know how long I had been in this room, I could only go by the number of trays that had been brought to me. Four trays, four days. And in all that time, I had only seen one person, the horrid old woman who brought my food.

And she wasn't talking. She couldn't be moved, not by tears, anger, threats or bribes. I tried everything, finally shrieking and crying when nothing else seemed to work. Still, I was trapped here, held for reasons unknown, and scared beyond all rationale.

The first day, waking up in this strange room, which was circular with slotted windows placed every few feet, had been disorienting to say the least. Finding myself naked and chained to the bed had been surreal. This didn't happen in my world, not now. Maybe four hundred years ago, but definitely not now. The first day had been hazy, almost dreamlike. The drugs I had been given, most likely in my morning coffee, I realized after I had thought about it, had kept me dazed the entire day. But that night, when I finally realized what was going on, panic had set in. I had pulled at the bed, tried to tear it apart, to lift it. I had bruised and chaffed my ankle by pulling on it, trying to force my foot through the cuff. I had picked up the tray of food and thrown it with all the strength I could at the windows, hoping to shatter the glass in one of them and let someone know I was here.

But it had been no use. Four long days and I was still being held kidnapped against my will.

The light was fading through the windows. The old woman had lit my one candle when she brought my food and had brought another treat, hot water. Enough hot water to bathe in. She hadn't removed the chain and had watched over me as I scrubbed and washed, relishing the feeling of being clean more than my natural modesty. When I was done, she removed the water and moved the candle to it's normal spot, closer to the door and out of my reach. Did she know that I had contemplated burning the bed to escape?

I curled up on the soft mattress, tired of pacing. The blanket, sewn to the mattress and too heavy to rip, lay at my feet. My one pillow, stingy and thin, I packed into a ball and put under my head. I had cried until no tears were left and now all I felt was exhaustion. I let my eyes sink close as the last rays of the sun touched on my face. Sleep claimed me, taking me back home where my life waited for me and this was nothing more than an insignificant nightmare.

"Danielle."

I brushed aside the voice as if it were an obnoxious fly buzzing around me.

"Danielle." The voice was rough and raspy sounding, and as irritating as the fly with it's persistence.

"Leave me alone," I groused.

A hand reached out, shaking my shoulder lightly. "Danielle, wake up." The insistent voice along with the rude shaking woke me. I forced my eyes opened and glanced blearily around the dark room. The candle by the door was still lit but it was low, almost guttering, sending out sporadic bursts of illumination. With what light was left, I took a better look around the room once more, trying to find the person who woke me.

Now that I was aware, I realized the voice was male. I grabbed the blanket and pulled it over my naked body. "Who are you? What do you want? Why am I here?" My voice rose on the last words as I peered into the shadows, broke and caught as I saw a form, darker than the murky depths around him, break free and come closer to the bed.

"You only need to know one thing, Danielle. You belong to me now."

The raspy voice with it's tones of intimacy and possession turn fear into rage.

"I belong to no one but myself. Get that? No One But Myself!" I can hear the hysteria in my voice but I can't control the rage anymore than I can the fear that sweeps along with it. "I demand that you let me go. Now!"

The figure, a shadow cloaked in shadows, steps forward a little more. A hand reaches into the dim light of my candle and grasps the blanket I clutch so desperately around me. It's pulled out of my trembling hands with a quick strong movement that surprises and terrifies me. I'm left kneeling on the mattress, my arms held across my shaking breasts as my small burst of rage dwindles away.

"Get up."

My head was shaking, denying the command before the last word was out of your mouth. I tried to look strong and fierce, never realizing that I looked scared and miserable.

"Danielle," your voice was gentle now, deep and soothing as if talking to a spooked horse or a traumatized dog. "Do as I say. Get up and stand over there." The hand in the light, strong and fine, with long fingers deeply tanned, motions to a spot in front of the mirror, a spot that seems to strangely almost glow.

When I still refuse to move, the hand reaches down and grasps the chain that is attached to my ankle. You pull on it enough to move my leg down and send me scooting behind it. "Do as you are told, girl."

Fear sends me skittering across the floor, standing shaking in the spot you indicated. An onslaught of tears scald my face, even through the cold blanket of terror that seems to envelope me. I had been waiting for this from the first second that I had been aware in this room, waiting and dreading for this moment to take place. I knew there had to be a reason I had been taken, held here with no answers, no contact with anyone but my mute guard. I could feel the whimpers beating at my throat, trying to escape, feel my legs shake. I wanted to weep and fall to the floor to beg. I wanted to hurl myself back under the thin protection of my blanket and curl away. I wanted to be anywhere, absolutely anywhere but here.

"Turn around, Danielle."

I turn, slowly, facing the mirror, leaving my back defenseless. I turn my head over my shoulder, trying to track your movements, to see your face.

"Face the mirror and put your arms down at your sides."

I obey, even as I curse myself for being a coward. I can see myself in the mirror, a scared naked girl who looks defeated in the wavering light. I should be defiant, stand against you. I should fight with my fists, nails and teeth, kick, scream. I should scratch and bite. And even as I think these thoughts, I know that I won't. My fear of what you would do if I did fight is stronger than my will to defy.

I feel the hand that pulls at my hair, gentle fingers sliding through my clean tresses and untangling knots without a single jerk or pull. The caress, those fingers against my skull, through my hair is confusing. I expect rape, harsh and fast. I expect to be taken, hurt, brutalized. And instead, this caress of your hand through my hair is a gentleness I don't know if I can handle.

"If you're going to rape me, just do it." I gritted the words out between shaking teeth, trying hard to sound strong and fearless. I can see the size of you in the mirror, the outline of your broad shoulders behind my head. Your apparent strength terrifies me but I fight to keep you from seeing it.

Your chuckle, a deep play of notes that I feel as your breath on my shoulder, surprises me. As does the hands that lift the long length of my hair and let it rain down through sensitive fingers to caress my back.

"I won't rape you, Danielle."

Your voice is too close and I feel your warmth at my back. I stare hard into the mirror searching for some clue to who you are in a face that remains cloaked in shadows. "Then let me go. Please."

"No, Danielle." I feel as much as see the shake of your dark head. "You've mistaken my words. I won't rape you, it won't be rape. When I take you, you'll want me as much as I want you."

I gasp at your words. Feel a clutch of fear trickle through me. Hysteria tries to bubble but I push it back. Your hands, palms hard and calloused, come to rest upon my shoulders. Heat slides through me, even as fear makes me tremble. I can almost feel you at my back, and yet, I still can't see you in the mirror.

"I've been here every night, Danielle. I've watched you sleep. I've seen dreams trip across your face and heard your whimpers of pleasure and fear."

Your breath tickles my ear as you speak, your words do strange things to my stomach. Your hands move from my shoulders, slowly sliding down and then back up my arms, leaving a trail of heat behind that makes me want to move back into you, not move away.

"I've watched your beautiful breasts and wanted to pillow my head on them, to hear your heart beat in my ear, Danielle." Your hand slides across my collarbone, fingers outstretched. It rests against my breast, feeling my heart racing under it's heat. Your hands are big, fingers covering my upper chest. You use that one hand to gently draw me back the few inches that separate us until I can feel you against my back, one long line of heat in hard muscled form.

I more feel than hear the catch in your breathing, a tiny hitch that does things to my insides that other's caressing hands failed to do. I don't want to be seduced by your words, by your hands, but I find myself awaiting, eagerly, for your next move.

Your hand slips down my body, barely brushing over the nipples that have tightened against my wishes. The slight caress shudders through me and I find myself wanting more, and having to fight my aching body to keep it from arching back against you. Your hand rests upon my stomach, holding me still with a touch as light as the breath that stirs my hair.

"Your stomach, Danielle, has taunted me. Slim, so fine that my hands can span it. I've wanted to do that, Danielle." A tiny moan escapes me as you do just that. "I've wanted to lift you, feel you between my hands. I've waited days to know your weight in my hands."

Your head turns, I can feel your nose against my hair, breathing in it's scent. Your chest is naked behind me, hot against my skin. Your hands are sure and strong, gentle and tender on my flesh. I know you could hold me there by brute strength alone. I know I should be afraid, but your words, spoken in that beautiful harsh voice are sensual torment enough to hold me enraptured. I feel your hands slide down, follow the deep curve of my hips, rest against the top of my thighs. Your fingers flutter for a moment and I sense a desperation in you to take more that you ruthlessly deny and contain until once more your hands are gentle heat against my skin.

Your chest rises as you take a deep breath and let it out slowly. It's one more caress that sneaks in to mesmerize my senses. My head falls back on your shoulder and I watch your hard hands in the mirror as they touch my skin.

"Your hips, Danielle." Your voice is hoarser. "I've wanted to rest my head on your hips, smell the fragrance of your flesh, the musky scent of your femininity. I've wanted to caress you with my breath, seduce you with a teasing flip of my tongue." Your tongue slips around the whorl of my ear and your breath floats over me, mixing with the scent of your skin. I inhale greedily, and hear your sigh of pleasure.

"That's it, Danielle. Breath me in, feel me inside of you as well as next to you."

My eyes close for an instant as I feel need spike through me. A tantalizing mixture of words and caresses that have cluttered my brain until all I can do is feel.

"Don't close your eyes, Danielle. Watch us, look in the mirror."

My eyes open as I feel your lips touch my neck. I can see myself in the glow from the mirror, see the languorous look of pleasure in my eyes. But even though your head is bent, next to mine, you still remain dark and unseen. Your hands are on my thighs, curled around their slim length, caressing until I open them naturally for your touch.

Your fingers touch lips dewed and swollen with need, caress them with gentle strokes. I watch, fascinated by the sight of your hard hand, so dark against my white flesh. Seeing them on my skin fuels flames of need that make me shake with their force.

Your moan, heavy and hoarse, full of your own need, sends pleasure soaring through me. You slide one finger through those smooth, hairless lips and into my heat.

"I've touched you once, here, before this." I can hear your breathing quicken even though your words are still gentle. "But it wasn't like this. You were sleeping, open to me. I couldn't resist one touch even though it was forbidden." Your soft groan sends heated breath across my skin raising goose flesh that prickles with awareness. I feel my body loosening, melting against you and I am helpless to resist. Even though I've never seen your face or heard your voice, I recognize something inside of you that calls to something inside of me.

My hands, fists once clenched in fear and pressed against my legs, relax and touch the skin of your thighs, feeling soft hair and firm muscle. I feel the need to caress as I am being caressed, to give you the same pleasure that is thundering through my body. I feel your fingers find the hard nub of sensitive flesh between my thighs, touch it, stroke it until liquid implosions of fire burst inside of me.

"No," you groan. "It was nothing like this. You are so much more than I expected, Danielle. So much more than I was promised." Your free hand touches my chin turns my face until your lips touch mine. My eyes are open, staring into yours, seeing them in the glow. They are green, alive with fire behind heavily fringed lashes. Your tongue touches my mouth and I gasp, my eyes closing as you take advantage of my open mouth to deepen the kiss. Your breath becomes mine, your taste as necessary to me as the beating of my heart.

My hips move in time with your dancing fingers even as another torching streak of pleasure sears through me. Your lips leave mine and I almost weep with their loss, wanting to turn, to feel you against me fully. Your mouth suckles at the juncture of my shoulder and neck, drawing the flesh into your mouth. I feel the sting of your teeth, tiny pricks of pain pleasure. You lift your head, seeing the mark you left on my flesh, your brand of ownership upon my skin. You hear my gasps of pleasure, my moans of need.

"I'm going to take you, now, Danielle. But you have to tell me." My eyes are drawn to the liquid green fire of yours in the mirror. "Listen to me, Danielle."

I shudder and focus on your words, even as your talented fingers drive me past another peak of pleasure. "I'm listening." My voice is a whispered sigh, husky from pleasure, urgent with the need for more.

"You have to tell me, Danielle. Is this rape?"

Your hand is stroking my breast, knuckles brushing underneath the rounded globe. Your fingers are slipping inside of me, cupping my heat.

"Is this rape, Danielle?" Your voice is no longer gentle, harsh with passion. Your fingers find my nipple, hard from your caresses. You twist it gently and I surge back against you.

"No," I whimper. "No, it's not rape."

"You want me, Danielle."

My head shakes in weak denial at the words, denial that is stubborn and stupid and against what I feel inside for you.

Your voice is rough in my ear, you teeth deliberate stings on my neck. I close my eyes once, briefly before looking at you once more in the mirror.

"You want me, Danielle. Don't deny what you feel." Your voice becomes rougher, your breathing ragged pants. "Say the words, Danielle. Say the words so that I may claim you."

"I..want you." My voice is a breathless sigh. "I need you." My voice is stronger, the words given freely and with feeling.

I see those green eyes close for a second and then open and leap like fire as they meet mine, a look of utter triumph gleaming in them. Your fingers leave me, pulling me back into the curve of your body, opening my legs more as you position yourself. Your body bends over mine, your hand cupping my breast, squeezing, kneading. I can feel the long length of you between my thighs poised to take me. The size startles me, sends a twitter of fear to blend seductively with the heat.

I can feel you stretching me as you push slowly inside of me. Your mouth is on my shoulder as you push in further, teeth clamping delicately on my flesh. I am almost delirious with the pleasure you bring as you fill me more completely, more fully that I've ever had before.

You gasp as pleasure shudders through me once more, making my moist flesh clench around you like a fist as you move deeply in me. We watch each other in the mirror, your dark hands on my skin, my body stretching and moving around yours. Your thrusts are frenzied gentleness, as you bend over me, surrounding me, claiming me as your own.

I cry out sharply as I feel that edge rushing closer. Your hands grip my hips, hard, pulling me back so you are so deep it's like we are connected.

"The mirror," your voice is a husky rasp, breathing ragged in my ear. "Look in the mirror." There is an almost desperate quality to your voice that startles me. I gaze into the mirror, seeing the glowing edges. Your eyes gleam back at me, half closed, intense in passion. They flow through me, invade my soul until you are all I see, all I can feel. I see the shadowed tilt of your head, the way it's thrown back as you gasp in air, your eyes never leaving mine. I can see the shadowed outline of your hair, long and wild, feel it against my shoulders and back. I see the gleam of your teeth, a white flash of sharpness as you thrust against me, into me harder.

The need floods through me, talon sharp even with the pleasure you'd already given me. Watching you, seeing the pleasure in your eyes, feeling the strength of you in your grip, the need in the slight tremble of your knees is addictive. I can't stop looking at you.

"Danielle," your mouth is next to my ear, your breath floating into me once more. "Feel me." You say something to me in a harsh gasp, words that I couldn't understand in a language I'd never heard. They sound exotic and sensual, in your deep raspy voice. Your hand reaches between my legs, cups me and pulls me back harder against you as I cry out, pleasure pouring through me in sharp spurts of heat unlike anything I'd ever felt before.

Your body jerks against mine and I hear your cry, feel you cum in me in quaking jerks. My head falls forward, my hair covering my face as I try to breath, forcing shallow gasps of air into my starved lungs.

You lean against me weakly, one hand against the edge of the mirror, which seems to glow more strongly with your touch. Your hand is gentle on my stomach, caressing with almost unconscious strokes. An unknowing caress, the thought crosses my mind, like you would give a cat, or maybe a dog that has earned your praise.

It makes me mad, that thought, even as little tremors of pleasure still float through me. I performed just as you wished. I played right into your hands. What was wrong with me? I'd never let my body rule my head before.

But I had to admit, what you had done, what you had made me feel, I'd never known. I look up, startled to find that you are staring at me, a flash of white telling me that you were grinning. You were pleased with me, and with yourself. It was like I could hear your thoughts in my mind, hear the masculine satisfaction at the way I let you play me. It almost oozed out of you.

I stood, determined to demand my release. I tried to turn to confront you, but you stopped me easily, one large hand covering my stomach from hip bone to hip bone, the other across my chest, your little finger barely brushing my left nipple.

"Don't move, Danielle." Even your voice sounded pleased.

"Why shouldn't I?" I demand, strangely unafraid of you now. You may not have raped me or hurt me, but you were still much bigger than I am and could do so easily.

"Because, if you are to conceive, you must stay still, for a few small moments more." You sound as if you are explaining things to a cantankerous child, a tone that seriously irks me.

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