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Her body convulsed with sobs, the agony of her defeat ripping through her with the ferocity of a thousand storms. "I love you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. The darkness of the cell seemed to swallow her words, as if the very walls were mocking her with their silence. The shadows grew longer; the candle flame a flickering beacon of hope that was slowly fading away.

"Alice," she choked out, her voice a shattered whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Each syllable was a shard of glass in her throat, a painful reminder of the life she had been fighting to protect. The fever ravaged her, turning the cold stone into a fiery inferno, and yet she felt nothing but the biting chill of her failure. She had been so naive to think she could save James without consequence, so blinded by love that she had walked straight into the monster that would be the death of her.

Suddenly, she heard the cold steel door of the cell door rattle. She wasn't sure if it was the fever playing tricks on her, but she thought she heard footsteps. A hand, strong and calloused, lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing. She didn't struggle; she had no fight left in her. Was this the end? Was this deaths grip on her?

Then the darkness consumed her, but she swore she felt a warmth wash over her.

Chapter 8:

Her eyes fluttered open to find herself submerged in a warm bath. The scent of jasmine filled her nostrils, soothing her fevered brow. She gasped at the sudden change, her body instinctively recognizing the warmth as a lifeline thrown into the icy abyss she'd been trapped in. The water was heavenly, caressing her skin like a warm embrace from a lost lover, the heat seeping into her bones, melting away the cold that had settled there.

For a brief, disorienting moment, she felt weightless, as if she were floating in a sea of tranquility. Her muscles, taut from the cold unforgiving cell floor and malnourishment, began to relax, the tension draining away like the dirty water swirling around her. Her surroundings came into focus, revealing a grand, dimly lit chamber with walls adorned in velvets and rich tapestries. A place of opulence that seemed to exist in another world entirely.

The warmth of the water was a stark contrast to the frigid cell, and she couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. The fever had broken, and she could feel her strength slowly returning. Above her, the looming figure of Vice watched his expression unreadable behind the mask. "Why?" she managed to say out, her voice hoarse from days of crying.

"We made a deal, Ivy," he replied, his voice low and gruff. "And I get nothing if I just let you die." He sounded cruel and cold. It was the voice of a man who had seen too much pain and who had become numb to the suffering of others.

Her eyes searched his, desperation etched into every line of her face. "What do you want from me?" she rasped, the warmth of the water bringing a little color back into her face.

Vice's gaze bore into hers, his expression unwavering. "My terms are simple. You will be my plaything, my servant, my whore. You will do as I say, when I say, without question. And in return, you'll be comfortable. Your disobedience will be met with punishment." His words were like a knife to her soul, but she knew she had no choice. She nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek, mingling with the water.

He leaned closer, his hand reaching out to brush the wet hair from her face. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a sickening coo. "You will learn to enjoy serving me."

Vice's hand traveled from her chest down her stomach over her tattoos to between her legs, sending a shiver of arousal through her body. His touch was unwelcome, invasive, a stark reminder of the deal she'd made. His fingers traced the curve of her inner thigh before lingering at the edge of her clit. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her reaction, a sadistic glint in his gaze. Ivy steeled herself, willing her body not to respond.

But it was as if her body had a mind of its own. The heat from his touch began to spread through her, igniting a fire deep within that she hadn't felt in ages. Despite the horror of the situation, she found herself leaning into his touch, her hips moving slightly in the water.

"See?" Vice whispered, his grin widening beneath the mask. "Resistance is futile. You're already starting to crave what I can give you." His fingers dipped lower, teasing the sensitive flesh, and she couldn't help but whimper.

Ivy felt a wave of disgust at her own response. How could she be feeling this way? Yet, as much as she hated it, she couldn't deny the pleasure his touch brought her. It was as if her body was betraying her, eagerly responding to his cruel advances.

"You're mine now," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Mine to use, mine to enjoy." His thumb circled her clit with maddening precision, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She hated him, despised him for what he'd done to her, but the feeling of his hands on her body was undeniable.

Her heart raced in her chest, her pulse pounding in her ears. She gripped the sides of the tub as her head fell back, the water sluicing down her neck and back. The sensations overwhelmed her, a maelstrom of fear and arousal swirling together like the water around her. She felt his other hand slip beneath the water, his fingers probing her entrance.

"Don't fight it," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Embrace the pleasure I give you."

Ivy clenched her teeth, trying to push back the rising tide of desire that washed over her. Her body was his to command now, and she hated herself for it. But she couldn't deny the way his touch sent shivers through her, the way his fingers worked her body like a master craftsman.

"I own every part of you," Vice said, his voice a dark whisper. "Including this." His thumb pressed down on her clit, and she moaned despite herself. The sound echoed through the chamber, a pathetic cry of surrender to his will.

Her eyes squeezed shut, Ivy's mind reeled as she grappled with the reality of her new existence. She'd been sofocused on saving James that she'd never truly considered the cost to herself. Now, she was paying it in full, and it was a price she wasn't sure she could bear.

With a sudden, sharp movement, Vice slid two of his long thick, calloused fingers into her, and she couldn't hold back the cry that tore from her throat. Her body arched, the water splashing around her as she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled so completely. It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time, and it was tainted by the knowledge that she had no control over it.

The sound seemed to excite him even more, his eyes lighting up with a twisted satisfaction. He leaned down, his mouth coming closer to hers, and she felt a strange mix of dread and anticipation. And then, without warning, his mouth was on hers, claiming her in a brutal kiss. His tongue forced its way between her lips, tasting her fear and her despair. It was a kiss that said she belonged to him, that he owned her completely.

Her body responded despite her mind's protests. She moaned into his mouth loudly as he curled his fingers inside her, the sensation shooting through her like an electric current. Her hips moved of their own accord, rising to meet his hand as he pumped them in and out of her with an expert rhythm. The water sloshed around them, punctuating each movement with a wet slap.

"Please," she whimpered, the word slipping out. She hated the sound of it, hated that she was begging him, but she needed the release he promised. The orgasm was a siren's call, beckoning her closer and closer, and she couldn't resist the pull.

Her breath grew ragged, each gasp echoing in the cavernous bathroom. She could feel her body tightening, her muscles coiling around his fingers like a snake readying to strike. The pressure grew and grew, and she knew she was close. So close.

"Please what?" he asked, pulling back from the kiss, a smug smile playing on his lips. His thumb continued to rub her clit, his fingers moving deeper and faster. "Tell me what you want, Ivy. I need to hear it from you're lips."

Her eyes snapped open, meeting his. "Please, don't stop." she panted, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Please make me cum."

Vice chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with victory. "As you wish," he said, and with that, he increased the pressure and speed of his hand. Ivy felt her climax approaching like a runaway train, unstoppable and terrifying. Her nails dug into the sides of the tub as she bucked against his hand, her body desperately seeking the release it had been denied for so long.