It has been a month, since Scaramouche had kidnapped and locked you up at his place.

He was treating you like his own puppet, feeding and washing you ever day.

His gestures were tender, yet brutal at the same time and he was able to live out all his fantasies with you.

You were tied up on the floor, as he continued to stab into your arm with a knife.

"Keep screaming, darling." He leans down and laughs. "Don’t worry, I won’t let you have the privilege of dying."