Taken. Broken. Captive.
There used to be a small amount of safety within the walls of my cell.
Now my body is broken and bruised.
And he doesn’t come to comfort me.
I ache for him.
His face dominates my dreams.
His body dominates my desire.
Then he offers himself to me and I lose myself in him.
But I do not love him.
I cannot love him.
To do so would risk my chance at escape . . .
Reader discretion is advised.