Kaplan raises the camera and the woman begins posing, lifting a shoulder, pushing her breasts together, leaning toward the camera, lacing her fingers through her hair. The digital shutter clicks as Kaplan takes photo after photo, and then his voice spreads through the sounds of music and rustling bedding. “Pull down your bra and show me those gorgeous tits. That’s right, baby. Now spread your legs for me. Pull your thong to the side and show me that pussy.”

Everything Kaplan asks, the woman does eagerly. She plays with her nipples. She bends over and points her ass to the camera, caressing her skin as she looks back at her photographer with a playful grin. And when she’s had enough, she straightens her lingerie and turns, crawling to the center of the bed, holding out her hands in an offering to Kaplan. He sets the camera on a nightstand and takes a chain from each side of the suspended frame, clipping them to the links on her black cuffs on her wrists.

“Pull them hard three times if you want me to stop,” Kaplan says as he demonstrates with the slack of one chain. The woman nods, her gaze trained on Kaplan’s movements as he takes a condom from the nightstand and tears the foil of a condom wrapper open with his teeth. He spits the ripped end off the side of the bed as he pulls the latex out of its pouch and then rolls it over his erection. They look at one another for a long moment as Kaplan strokes his long, hard cock. I can’t see much of his face, but I can see hers, and it lights with a ravenous grin.

And then it begins.

They kiss with fiery heat. Kaplan lowers the cups of her bra and her generous breasts spill out. He licks and sucks them as she moans. He teases her with his fingers, dancing them across her ribs and up her thighs. She laughs when his touch tickles. And when it finds her center to rub her clit and delve into her pussy, she moans. Kaplan fucks her with his fingers and sucks on her breasts until she’s writhing.

“So wet, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“I want your cock. I want you,” she whispers, and Kaplan growls with desire as he withdraws his fingers to taste her.

“I can tell,” he says.

I watch as he pulls her thong to the side and holds it there, wrapping his free arm around her back. And then he slides into her.

The woman moans and gasps and squirms in her chains as the rhythm builds. But it’s not the woman who interests me. It’s Kaplan who I’m riveted to. There’s an energy in him that swims beneath his skin. He moves with the fluid grace of an animal. He has a beast to unleash, but he’s holding onto it tight.

I wonder if he’ll let it go.

I lean back and keep my eyes on Kaplan’s broad back and his tight ass, his muscles rippling as they power him through each thrust. I pull the glove from my hand and slide my palm beneath the waistband of my leggings. My fingers slip through the arousal gathering between my thighs and I draw them back up to my clit, circling the bundled nerves as I watch the couple on the screen.

The woman’s moans grow louder as Kaplan’s pace quickens. That beast of his is coming closer to the surface. It’s in the tension of his back and the way he whispers and moans, like it’s determined to claw its way out. But he’s still not ready to let go.

Pleasure curls low in my belly. I want to see what he can do.

“I’m gonna come,” the woman says. Her voice is tight as her hooded eyes find the camera and she looks right at me over Kaplan’s shoulder.

“Oh you like that, do you? You like the thought of me watching this over and over, don’t you, baby,” Kaplan says. She nods playfully, but her motion is jerky as her muscles clench with the orgasm that tears through her. She keeps her eyes on the camera as long as she can, until her head rolls back and pleasure consumes her. Kaplan works her through it, slowing his strokes. He reaches to one of her cuffs and releases one chain and then the next. She grips his shoulders and he lies her down on her back. She’s boneless and sweating as he stays buried within her. “Good girl. But we’re not done yet,” he says.

Kaplan brings her wrists together above her head and clamps them both to a single chain that’s waiting from the head of the bed, lying like a snake across the sheets.

“Tap your hands on the mattress three times if it’s too much,” Kaplan says, waiting until she nods her consent before he starts his thrusts again. His palms flow across her stomach and worship her skin. They glide to her breasts and explore their softness and the tight peaks of her nipples. Then they come up to her neck and fold around her throat.

Yes.

I can see it, that beast within him right there at the surface, finally getting what it wants. I edge closer to an orgasm as Kaplan squeezes the woman’s throat, his rocking thrusts railing into her with so much power and grace. The woman gurgles a moan and Kaplan’s grip tightens as he growls.

And then she taps out.

Kaplan’s fists immediately release from around her throat and she clears her discomfort with a quiet cough. He asks her if she’s okay and she says she wants to keep going, but I can see the tension in Kaplan’s body. He’s wrestled that demon deep beneath the surface. When he places his hands back around her throat, it’s only for show. All the tension that should be in his hands is now in his back and his shoulders. I feel the loss of that freedom through the screen. I feel it in me. The powerful orgasm that was building just moments ago has fled.

I let out a frustrated sigh and slide my hand out of my leggings as I watch Kaplan and the woman orgasm together. I put my glove back on and close the file, covering my tracks as I go. I’m just shutting the computer down when I hear Duke’s claws on the floor, scrambling toward the door.

Kaplan is home early.

Shit.

The dog bounds down the hall as the lock clicks open and Kaplan enters his house. He gives Duke an enthusiastic greeting as I turn off the lamp and open the blinds I closed earlier.

I tiptoe toward the hallway. My heart thrums in my chest. I bend down at the door frame, squatting low, shifting to the edge so I can look down the corridor. If Kaplan glances this way, it will be less likely that he’ll see me watching when I’m not at eye level.

He doesn’t look in my direction as he passes the mouth of the hallway, heading for the back of the house with Duke at his heels. I hear the sliding door to the fenced yard unlock and open as he lets the dog outside.

I get up and drift silently to the guest room across the hall, and then I shimmy myself under the bed until I’m up against the wall.

There’s only a half-inch of space between my face and the bed frame. I close my eyes and take a deep breath but my chest touches the metal slats.

My eyes shoot open and the bed feels like it’s pressing down on me. There isn’t enough air here. My heart is hammering so loudly that I can barely make out the sound of Kaplan rummaging in the kitchen. It feels like insects are crawling beneath my skin. All I want to do is scramble out of this place before it closes in around me. I try pressing my eyes shut again and slowing every breath.

Accept your punishment. It is God’s will. 

I fight the memories away, but I can still feel it. The pebbles of the desert earth against my scars. The metal box closing around me.

Think about your wickedness and repent. 

I swallow. I try to calm the storm brewing in my chest. I’ve practiced for moments like this. I need to do what I have trained for. To overcome.

You are not Ava anymore, Samuel’s voice calls as I search for my safe place in my mind. You are Sombria. You must not let the circumstances around you dictate your success. Turn that which you fear into your armor, Bria, and it will protect you. 

I’m safe here. I can get out if I need to. There is no lock. There’s no one to forget me in a box I can’t get out of. I’m not trapped. I chose this hiding place.