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It was strange to be unable to see or hear and be left only with touch.

His warm hands running up my back.

His hot mouth on my breast and the subtle growl as he pressed his cock against me.

My body pressed down.

I didn't mean to.

I didn't want to, but still my hips rocked, looking for the friction that would satisfy us both.

My mind spiraled in a thousand directions. Was this it? What was he planning on doing to me? Was he planning on fucking me before he killed me? Was he planning on keeping me? If he kept me, what would he do with me?

Surely, he didn't need me to be some kind of arm candy or bed warmer.

Pavel was attractive, powerful, and seductive.

If the whispers from the other cleaners were true, then he could get any woman he wanted. Willingly.

Why would he take me? Why was this happening to me? What was he going to do?

The more thoughts that raced through my mind, the harder it was to breathe.

A cold sweat broke out over my back as I tried to slow my thoughts.

My skin was over-sensitive, every soft touch of air, every shift of the car, every movement of his hands or his tongue against my flesh—it was all too much. Too overwhelming.

I wanted to scream but couldn't.

I wanted to fight past him, but there was nowhere to go.

There was nothing I could do but endure and pray for a quick end.

Would some poor, unwitting soul come across my body in a year chained in some long-forgotten basement when Pavel tired of me? Or would he do something else, something as threatening as making me fuck a gun, but that ended in death before the orgasm?

Was this how I died?

In some kinky fantasy that could only be born in the mind of a madman, the brain of a monster?

Something pushed inside of me.

I stiffened. It was thicker than what I experienced before, still firm, but more giving, and warmer.

When it curled to press into my G-spot, I realized it was his fingers and not his gun again, or some other weapon. Still, his fingers were merciless, the way they stretched me, pressed in deep and rubbed the most sensitive parts of me.

Once more, I held my breath.

Before, I had feared losing my virginity to a weapon.

Now, I feared he would discover I was untouched.

He was going to feel how innocent I was, and I didn't know how he would react.

Would it make things worse?

Men like him valued virgins in the world of sex trafficking.

Would he keep me alive just to sell me?