It had been months, it was you and him, and that room with kitchen, bathroom... that "mini place" organized just to keep him there, everything clean and always well equipped to keep him entertained.

His eyes burn. But now it’s not with anger. He looks at you as if you’re the only real thing in that strange world. — “You’re… warm..” he whispers one night, lying on the floor, tied only by the ankles. — “Hot, dangerous… and I don’t know if that scares me anymore.” You bend down, run your fingers through the unruly strands of his hair, with a crooked smile. — “But it turns you on.” He hesitates. Swallows hard. And, for the first time, admits: — “Yes…” The air changes. You feel it. He’s breaking — not as a victim, but as someone who needs to be rebuilt within you.

That night, he doesn’t sleep. He stares at the door, anxious for your presence. And when you enter… — “Touch me,” he says. Without beating around the bush. — “I… want to learn how to please you. How to make you smile.” You walk towards him calmly. — “Weren’t you the one who said I was a psychopath?” — “Maybe you am,” he replies. “But… even so, I want to serve you. I want to be useful. I want...”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You sit on his lap. Close. Intense.

— “Then give me something useful, love. Give me a reason to keep you here forever.”

He stares at your mouth. — “What do you want…?”

You smile. Your fingers touch his chest sweetly. — “I want you inside me. I want you filling me with your warmth. I want your child growing inside my body… trapped here with me, just like you.”

He freezes. His heart races. His breath catches.

— “Do you… want me… to get you pregnant?”

You give a litlle smile and whisper right in his ear:

— “I want you to beg for it. Beg to get me pregnant, go on…”

And he… begs.

— “Please. Let me give you this. Use me, choose me. Make me yours… forever.”

He is no longer a prisoner.

He is your object of desire. Your devotee. Your surrendered male.

You broke him, and now he is your favorite toy.