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muttering, "Don't try to fake me out again!"
        Her taut muscles seemed to give way at that same moment.
        "Oh, God, yes!" she cried.
        Grabbing her hot cheeks, he shoved himself as deep as her body would allow and with just a few more quick thrusts spent his seed inside the dark channel.

    Alain was the first to speak afterwards. "I should string you up and beat you senseless."
    "Was I that bad?"
    "No, you were very good as usual, but I have to keep you on your toes."
        "Is that so? Well, that kind of ramped up display on your part, Detective Danvers, makes me think that you were dwelling on your adorable Miss Shaw. Am I right?"
        He laughed. Not answering directly was enough of an answer for Janis.
        Yes, the girl was in his mind, the little temptress taking up lodging in a way that was growing increasingly distressing to his peace of mind. "If you think she's so delectable, my dear, why don't you take her in hand? There's been a dom bitch lurking in you for as long as I've known you."
        "Oh, I'm a bitch now?" she griped.
        "A sexy one," he answered drolly.
        "I'm surprised you keep me around."
        He turned in bed and smiled tenderly, combing her hair from her face. "I'm surprised you keep coming back."

S CENE S IX

    "I Fly Way Off Anyone's Radar."

    "Hey, doll, how about this!" he strode into the room this time, rather than sneak his way inside like a clever thief.
        Kat raised her head. "How about what?"
        "These?"
        "These what? Am I supposed to see beyond this blasted blindfold?"
        "Ah. Too bad."
        "Why not let me see you?" she wondered aloud. "I mean if you are all powerful. If the long arm of the law can't touch you, if you have truly spirited me away and I cannot escape, then why can't I see your face?" She stopped, considering her last comment. "Or are you too repugnant to look at?"
        "My, you are chatty this morning." If she could be so flippant, then she was becoming more accustomed to her captivity. A good thing.
        "I'm asking real questions, sir. I think I deserve a few answers."
        "You deserve nothing but what I choose to give you," his voice darkened immeasurably. He unlocked the cage and released her hands and feet. "Off to the papers to pee. You behave yourself, you'll get something to eat."
        Her stomach was growling. She had no idea how many days she'd been in captivity. But she knew exactly how many meals she'd eaten: six, if you count the single plum she ate that first day. Her other meals were more than a single plum but small, although she believed he was adding supplements to the milkshakes he gave her. The only time of day she was hungry was just after she awakened, and by then she was ravenous. Was it morning? Possibly. But there was no way to tell. Hours drifted into hours; her time alone seemed endless. Too many empty minutes made her crazy.
        When her captor was with her, the tests continued; there was no end to the perverse acts he demanded, or her increasing willingness to acquiesce without a fight.
        She ate from the floor…not from a plate or a bowl, but scraps he scraped to the hardwood and demanded she eat. She would be forced to lick the floor clean once she finished. On several occasions, she was hog-tied, suspended above the floor and teased, her pussy splayed and tortured with whips and clamps and things that dangled so heavily that they seemed to draw her aching labia to the floor. She drifted into subspace at least twice in the middle of the torture, but had yet to experience an honest orgasm. For what seemed like hours on end, her body had no rest from the stimulation, and no satisfaction. Then for hours, there was nothing but the intense, blind, loneliness of the wire cage. She treasured her one blanket as if she were a child again, bonding with the only something that could give her comfort in the middle of a long and uneasy