Finch stared at the tiny square of light in the door and scratched her arm. She sniffled and ran her wrist underneath her red nose, smearing snot across her face. She scratched again and hoped he would visit her soon.
Footsteps in the hallway made her sit up straight. Her thin shirt did not hide her pert nipples, and she slipped her hand past the waistband of her ragged pants and fingered herself. She licked her lips and stared at the door, anticipation making her eyes bug out.
The door opened and the booted feet stepped inside. She shaded her eyes against the bright light from the hallway and put on her most groveling smile.
The man who leaned down over her was dressed smartly in a military uniform of unknown origin. He had a hard, squarish jaw and cold eyes, but his hands were soft, like an office worker’s. He reached for Finch and she stretched her hand towards him. With surprising gentleness, he lifted her to her feet and jerked his head. "Come,“ he said.
Finch followed him into the hallway on unsteady legs. She hugged herself and blinked at her surroundings – the stoic guardsmen who acknowledged her with barely a nod, the windows to the outside world, the other cells. From these came moans of pain and pleasure, and Finch shuddered. She looked ahead, realized her escort had gotten ahead, and flitted to catch up.
The guard led her to a room marked COMPLIANCE. He pushed open the door with his big soft hands and gestured Finch inside. She stepped into the air conditioned room, shivering and rubbing her arms. The door closed behind her with a heavy thud.
"Ahhh. Finch. Step forward, little one.”
The Captor sat behind the desk, his fingers steepled. Today he wore grey, as he always did, in his shadowy corner. Laid out in front of him was an array of phallic objects, of metal and glass and wood. Finch swallowed but crept forward, urged by her wet pussy. This part, she thought, but that was as far as she could think before hitting a wall of erotic attraction to the Captor.
The man crooked a finger at her. "Closer.“
Finch obeyed without a thought, trembling as she stepped into a shaft of cold sunlight. She brushed at her matted hair with dirty fingers. Once she had been very pretty, a beauty queen in a small town. Where the light barely touched the lower part of his face, the Captor’s smile slid long and thin across his lips, showing yellowed teeth.
"Undress, girl,” he said. Finch pulled her shirt over her head and dropped her pants to the ground. She curled her toes and bent her knees inward, trying to hide her messy tangle of bush.
The Captor stood slowly and came around the desk. He put his hands on Finch’s shoulders and stroked all the way down to her toes. Then he stood back up and smiled at her, lifting her chin with a finger. "So. Have you enjoyed your stay with us?“
"Yes.” She stared into his eyes with unflinching adoration. "Very much.“
"Will you come to bed with me?” The Captor swept his arm to indicate the queen-sized bed set up on the other end of the office. He always asked. She always said yes.
Finch groped for his cock, hard beneath his grey pats. "Always,“ she said, in a desperate grunt.
He swept her up under his arm – she weighed nothing, and slumped as soon as her feet left the ground – and crossed the room with her, flinging her onto the bed. Finch landed on her face and quickly arched her ass into the air, waiting for him to enter her. She thrust herself out several times when he did not take her immediately, her whole body rigid with fear that he would no longer touch her. No longer lavish her with his affections.
The click of handcuffs snapped near her ear and Finch tugged gently on her wrist. She was chained to the bed. She took a deep breath and let it out in pure relief as the Captor’s cock slipped inside of her.
"Three more years,” the Captor said in a dry voice, “of you and me.”
Finch came, then reached for herself, tightening her pussy so he would have maximum pleasure. He was, after all, her god.