Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone by Marni Mann

twisting and sliding inside my wetness. My back arched, my ass pushing further into him, opening just enough to take in his tip and squeeze it, like he’d asked. Then, the shuddering hit, waves and sparks passing all the way through me, the pleasure slowly lessening, until there was complete stillness.
    Stillness and sedation.
    “I’ve waited half my life to hear that”—he kissed the top of my shoulder—“and to feel it.”
    I groaned. “Then, I guess you got everything you wanted.”
    “Not everything.”
    “I hoped there was more.” I was smiling, but because he was behind me, he couldn’t see it.
    “There is but not now.”
    “Garin—”
    His teeth nipped my earlobe. “You’re going to fall asleep because it’s what I want.”
    “What about what I want?”
    “That guy is going to be back soon, and I don’t want to have to stop. When my cock is inside you, I want to be able to take my time.”
    My eyes were getting so heavy that I couldn’t keep them open. “Will you be able to sleep?” I felt him slide my tank over my head and shimmy it down my stomach. Then, I felt him tuck something over my legs.
    “I have the smell of you on my fingers. I’ll sleep just fine.”
    “Mmm,” I murmured.
    Good night, Kyle.

Ten
    Kyle
    My body was so cold that I couldn’t stop shaking. My skin felt wet, and my hair clung to the back of my neck. I didn’t understand why my bones ached so badly or why my wrists and ankles felt like they had been rubbed raw, the skin around them burning with a heat that was almost intolerable. My eyelids were heavy, as though someone had taped them shut. When I finally opened them, it felt as if they were still closed. Darkness surrounded me. Not a murky gray or a translucent charcoal. It was pitch-black.
    Our cell was this dark, but it wasn’t this cold.
    I had been taken.
    Again.
    Where am I?
    Why do I hurt?
    Am I alone?
    I blinked, waiting for my eyes to adjust.
    One, two, three, four seconds passed. I still couldn’t see anything. Not my legs. Not my chest. Nothing.
    My breath…I couldn’t find it.
    Relax, Kyle .
    I tried to rub my eyes, but I couldn’t lift my hands. They were tied behind me, and my legs were shackled as well.
    Tied…to what?
    I rocked back and forth and realized I was on a chair. There was little give. I figured it was bolted to the ground, but it moved enough that I could feel its sturdiness and weight. It was metal, heavy. It had no cushion.
    Breathe .
    When I tried to pry my wrists out of the rope, it tightened even more, chafing over the raw skin. I felt my skin crack open, and the pain seethed. I cried out loud and gasped when I inhaled. My throat was closing.
    Breathe, Kyle .
    Each breath hit my bare thighs. I tucked my chin to my chest and felt even more bare skin. When I exhaled again, the burst of air hit my naked breasts.
    Someone had taken off my clothes.
    Someone had soaked me in something that made my skin and hair wet.
    Someone had tied me up.
    Someone…
    “Let me go!” I screamed, rocking in the chair, hoping the momentum would loosen the bolts. “Help me.”
    Each pump of my body caused the burning in my wrists and ankles to intensify. It felt like they had been sliced with a razor and doused with alcohol. When I stopped moving, I felt the drizzle. Too warm to be water from my hair and too thick. It had to be blood. It was running down my fingers and stopping as it reached the tips of my nails. And then…
    Drip … drip … drip onto the floor.
    “Garin?”
    Silence.
    “Garin, please answer me if you’re in here.”
    More silence.
    I would have heard him breathing. I would have seen the window by the top of the ceiling if I were in the cell.
    So, where the hell was I?
    I tried to take a breath and couldn’t. The air…it was gone. Not around me, but in my lungs.
    If Garin were here, he’d tell me to breathe. He’d try to take my mind off the tightening of my throat, the pressure in my chest.
    Breathe .
    I shook my head, and