Captivity Novelas e Histórias

To experiment. God, I was hopeless. A kidnapped mafia princess who could only think about getting into her kidnapper's pants. Was this Stockholm Syndrome? I learned about this in school last year, how some captives can fall in love with their captors. Has my brain ever twisted this far? He treated me like a doll, not like a person with a mind of his own. He degraded me, made me cum three times, and asserted his dominance over me with every step. So why did I find this so fucking sexy ?

—That's why you should stay with the other tzauri in the dassbat. I don't know what to think about this, but after all there isn't much to think about, is there? I think as I look at that metal cylinder that spits explosions and one of the wolves still points at me. It's not like I have much of a choice. I'll have to wait until my captor comes to get me. If he survives... **

I answered almost immediately. “Well… till then, you'll do as I say.” “I’ll do as you say but not on this one.” “Then, I'll make you,” he scoffed. The crackle of a gun brought me to my senses. “You can either choose to die or do as I say.” I took my panties off and here I was naked before my captor’s rival. All I wanted was to run away from earth entirely. My life was a total mess. I began to wonder how I became so unfortunate.

I swing the door open and storm back out. “What the hell are you doing in here, Damon?” My robe hangs open slightly, hair still damp, blouse clinging to my collarbone. Vulnerability sits on my skin like a stain. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t apologise. “This is your property. You can get any room at the snap of a finger,” I say, calm and clear. “It wouldn’t kill you to give your captive some space, would it?” My stomach flips. Captive. That’s what I am. He shrugs once. “Then kick me out.”

Marcus was too heavy, and Sophia was trapped beneath him. As she lay there, Sophia felt a mix of emotions: anger, frustration, and...something else. Something she couldn't quite explain. As she looked at Marcus's face, Sophia saw something vulnerable, something human. And for a moment, she felt a pang of compassion for her captor. But as she looked closer, Sophia saw something else: a look of peacefulness, of relaxation. Marcus was finally at peace, finally free from the burdens that weighed him down. For a moment, she forgot about her captivity, forgot about her fears. All she saw was Marcus, vulnerable and human.

Even while heading quietly to my chambers, I couldn’t get over the fact that my cock was still standing erect and hurting, pleading to perform even if it’s just for a few seconds. And for the first time in my life, I understood the true meaning of captivity... not the ones done with chains, not cells, not enemies who desire our downfall. But loving the one person who now held absolute power over you, to the point you can’t determine even how you breathe… And choosing, again and again, to kneel because you have no choice.

Then Tyler says, quietly but with absolute conviction: "She's been conditioned. That's what they do." "She wasn't, it didn't look like conditioning. It looked real." "It always looks real." He pulls a chair around and sits facing me, elbows on his knees. "Leo. That's the whole mechanism. It's not fake happiness they manufacture, it's real happiness they engineer. They create circumstances that make the captive feel genuinely safe, genuinely accepted, genuinely valued, and then that feeling becomes the evidence the captive uses to tell themselves they're not a captive." I want to argue with him. I sit with the impulse and let it pass.

Avery’s wolf howled in silent frustration. Despite the desperate snarl in her soul, her weakened limbs were no match for Stan’s strength. He had scented her vulnerability and struck with the precision of a mountain lion, dragging her to this godforsaken hovel. When Avery finally processed the gravity of her cage, she looked at Stan with raw, wide-eyed terror. She was a captive of a ghost, a male who existed outside the pack’s laws. Gripped by a primal dread she had never known, her hands instinctively shielded the curve of her stomach, protecting the secret life within.

I'm their willing slut, eager for whatever they want to give me. "Look at her." Santos yanks my head back by my hair, his cock popping free of my mouth, a string of spit connecting us. "Our little hostage fucktoy. Moaning like a whore while two killers use her holes. You like this, don't you? Like being our captive?" "Yes," I gasp. "Yes, I love it." "She loves it." Nico speeds up, pounding into me harder, his balls slapping against my clit with every thrust. "Our hostage loves being fucked by the men who kidnapped her. Don't you? Love being our captive slut?"

He wouldn't let this happen. He would come for me. He always did. Even | knew life with Massimo...his controlling hands, his unpredictable moods, and his obsessive nature was better than whatever this stranger had planned. Bootsteps scraped against the floor and I forced myself to lift my head. My captor, ugly and smug, a shadow of a man with teeth that caught in the lantern light, stood a few feet away watching me like I was somne prize animal he'd caught in a trap. His face looked like it had been