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The morning started like every morning since Trish had been taken. She was dreaming when she felt the first trickle of awareness; a touch skimming along her body that brought feelings of both arousal and anxiety. Before she was truly awake, her lips parted on a gasp, her nipples hardened, and she was wet and ready. It was a Pavlovian response.

She’d studied the history of psychology before she’d found a passion for art history, and she knew what was wrong with her. There was a name for what she was experiencing, but the knowledge didn’t lessen the impact.

It was called Stockholm Syndrome.

And it didn’t stop her from moaning, from spreading her legs even wider than the hard hands on her inner thighs pressed her to. Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes adjusted to the light. The swipe of a tongue up the center of her pussy made her moan again as her hips rolled, her half-asleep body easily manipulated by a man who had spent quite a bit of time learning her responses.

“Open your eyes, little girl.”

That was something he always insisted on. She obeyed and looked down the length of her body, past the small mounds of her breasts with their perky, pink nipples, to the man whose mouth hovered inches above the short, white-blonde hair of her pussy. His blue eyes seemed to glow as he met her gaze and held it as he lowered his lips to deliberately suck her clit into his mouth while she watched.

Trish shuddered and her hands clenched in the sheets. His tongue rasped over the tender bud, and her back arched as the pleasure washed over her. The steady sucking on her clit was almost too intense to bear, and she tried to close her legs, to protect the sensitive area, but his hard hands kept them wide open. Left her vulnerable.

“Please,” she whimpered, and her fingers dug into the sheets again. She’d learned, after the first day, not to try to stop him with anything but words. Her ass still burned when she remembered the spanking he’d given after tying her hands behind her back. And, as always, when she remembered it, shame and sexual excitement poured through her in equal measure. “It’s too much.”

Jordan must have been feeling indulgent today; he gentled the suckling before he released her clit and began to lick up the center of her pussy, seeking out the wetness that trickled between her folds. Trish moaned and writhed some more for him while she watched the slight bob of his head, up and down, between her legs. Every so often, his eyes would flick up to meet hers, to ensure she was watching, to trap her with his gaze.

The slow, seductive laps of his tongue against her swollen flesh and the occasional nibble of her tender lips soon had her panting with need. She wanted him to suck her clit again, but didn’t ask. That was one point of pride left with her: she never asked for the pleasure.

Jordan gave it to her anyway. When he was ready.

It felt like her body was burning up from the inside out, as her insides clenched and spasmed, empty and hungry for fulfillment. Trish moaned and moved her hips up and down, her eyelashes fluttering open and shut the way they did when she was became lost in the physical sensations. Her orgasm built, too slowly for her comfort, as Jordan tormented her with pleasure.

When he moved away from her pussy and began kissing his way up her stomach, she nearly screamed with frustration. The need to cum was overpowering, and her body moved to connect with him, her pussy trying to rub along the hard muscles of his body as he slid upward. When he sucked her nipples into his mouth, she let go of the sheets and clutched at his head, pushing her small breasts upwards to encourage him. One large hand completely covered her other breast and squeezed it just hard enough to make her gasp with pleasure.

The head of his cock nudged against her pussy, and she bucked and tried to position it at her entrance, needing more.

Jordan grinned wickedly and tugged on her nipple with his teeth before releasing it. His large body covered hers, and he grabbed her hands and placed them over her head as his cock nestled against her slick hole. Trish moaned. She was about to get what she wanted. Needed. Whenever they were alone, Jordan restrained her, either with his hands or actual restraints. If people watched, he preferred for her to have her hands free. Those were his two dominant kinks.

Her pussy stretched as he moved his hips forward.

“Open your eyes.”

Trish moaned as she forced herself to look up at him. He always insisted on looking into her eyes as he entered her. That icy gaze took in every detail of her expression as his thick cock stretched her open. Whatever he saw, it always seemed to arouse him more. Sometimes Trish swore she could feel him get harder when she gazed up at him, helpless and trapped beneath his much larger, much stronger body.

And damn her own traitorous reaction: she became more aroused by it, as well.

She was so wet from his mouth, from being so close to orgasm, he could take her as roughly as he wanted. Which was probably his intent in waking her up the way he had. She cried out as his lips lifted in a soundless snarl, and he shoved in deep and fast, his cock splitting her open. She was wet, but she was always tight when he first entered her, and it would take several pounding strokes before her body would adjust to the length and girth of his dick as it split her open.

But the burning stretch felt as good as it did painful, and her body arched to rub her wet pussy lips against him. Trish wrapped her legs around his thighs and held onto him the only way she could, her hips canting up to meet him.

Before Jordan, she’d never had rough sex. Never known she would like it.

She’d never had sex in front of people. Or sex while restrained. Or sex with another woman.

Some of it she still didn’t like, but this… These mornings with just him teasing her body and then pounding her into submission beneath him… These she could become addicted to. When he wasn’t fucking her brains out, he treated her like a fragile flower. But in bed, he let loose with a savage dominance that left her pussy feeling bruised more often than not. Yet she orgasmed every time.

So hard… So hot inside her…

She came with a scream, ecstasy rolling over and through her as his dick rammed home. Her pussy became even more slick as she creamed herself on his cock and writhed beneath him in passionate bliss, her trapped wrists pushing uselessly at his hand. It was agony and rapture as he fucked her, just as hard, and forced her body to spasm as her pleasure-organs were overstimulated.

Trish’s drawn-out cry was strangled, her eyes wide open and sightless as she came again and again beneath him, her pussy clamping down around the thick cock that continued to pierce her with savage thrusts. She sobbed out another plea… an entreaty… It was too much.

“My name…” Teeth bit down on her ear. “Say it.”

“ Jordan !”

She screamed again as he plowed into her, filling her completely before he went still. Her pussy throbbed so hard from her climaxes she almost didn’t feel the pulse of his cock inside her, the thick jets of liquid that filled her. Everything was white light and shimmering passion, her body tingling from head to toe, and the final satisfying shudders of her orgasm.

* * *

When she woke again, it was exactly an hour later. Jordan had a morning routine that went like clockwork, no matter what.

“Come on, little girl, time to get up.” His eyes flickered over the naked length of her body once he’d pulled the sheets away. For a moment, those eyes lingered on the dark, pink lips of her pussy, still looking battered from earlier. Trish didn’t bother trying to get up because it didn’t matter. He would do exactly what he always did. A heartbeat later she was scooped up in his arms, and he was carrying her to the private washroom attached to his bedroom.

Jordan scrubbed her down in the shower, intimately and thoroughly, which left her gasping and aroused again, and then he picked out what she’d wear for the day while Trish sat on the edge of the bed and waited. Patiently. Like a doll.

As long as she didn’t move from the spot he’d put her in, she could do whatever she wanted. Swing her feet. Mess up the sheets. Ask him questions. He’d even answer. But move one inch from that spot and he wouldn’t just spank her, he’d get out the paddle.

The first few days she’d been resentful of his constant ordering of her life. Now she was used to it. She almost found the routine soothing in some ways. Yeah, Stockholm at its best: that was her.

Jordan pulled a light-pink dress from the closet and turned to come toward her. He tended to put her in the lighter colors—the ones that went so well with her pale features. Sometimes Trish wondered if he liked her for herself a little bit or if he was still just obsessed with her hair color. Because he definitely was.

That’s what came after getting dressed. He would sit her on his lap and brush her hair until it was almost dry. It was another part of the day she found soothing, although at least it made sense. It was also the part of the day she wished would last longer because once it was done, it was time to leave the room. Time to go out into the halls and the rooms where there were other men and women; where she would be exposed and played with and sometimes fucked in front of them.

At least none of them ever touched her. Not like Bella and Alex. Jordan liked to show her off, but he was wildly possessive.

Today was different, though. He only brushed her hair for about ten minutes before he put it into a braid. That made her nervous.

“What’s going on?” she asked hesitantly as he led her out of their room. With one hand in his, looking up at him, she felt a bit like the little girl he called her when he led her everywhere by the hand. But it also made her feel safer.

He smiled down at her, reassuringly. “Sorry, little girl. We’ve got things to do today.”

It amazed her how Jordan was allowed to bring her wherever he wanted around the compound. At first, he’d left her in the room for periods of time; now he almost always took her with him, and no one said a word. Eventually she’d realized it was because, for the most part, she’d been extremely well behaved after the first couple days. Even at the beginning she hadn’t put up more than token resistance.

After all, what was the point? No one on the Moon cared if she was here—not like Bella and Alex. If they did care, it would only be as a novelty, and they’d probably lose interest once they realized the Wolf didn’t have anything to do with her. Some other student would get her scholarship, but that was the most disturbance her disappearance would have caused anyone: a bit of paperwork. That was just how it was. There were people who were important—or, at least, the children of people who were important, like Alex and Bella—and people who weren’t. Like Trish.

Strangely, in some ways, she was treated better here on Earth.

Cool air swirled around her thighs as they passed by people in the hallways. They were almost all soldiers. The entire compound was filled with them, and there were more around than usual because of Cora’s visit. Those who knew the woman either nodded or smiled at her as she passed. At first, the soldiers’ attitudes toward Cora had startled Trish, especially because none of them leered at her or made crude comments.

Not that Jordan would put up with that. As much as he enjoyed showing her off, it was always on his terms, and he never let anyone else touch her.

Well, with a few exceptions.

Laura, one of the women she could sort-of call a friend, waved at her from down the hall where she stood next to her man, Marek. Well, ‘stood next to’… Really, tucked under his arm. Like Trish, she wore a dress, although hers was a deep purple that would have washed Trish out.

There were two kinds of women in the compound. The vast majority were soldiers—they were all shapes and sizes, all levels of attractiveness and they all had one thing in common: they were hard. They played hard, fought hard, and were treated by the men as equals. Trish had seen plenty of relationships between soldiers, and no one seemed to care.

But then there were a few men who had ‘their’ woman; one who wasn’t a soldier but was allowed to stay in the compound, and those women always wore skirts. It was like a special uniform to let everyone else know that woman was off-limits.

Everyone respected the skirt.

Strangely, there didn’t seem to be an equivalent for the men, though a few of the female soldiers had their own women in skirts, too. When she’d asked, Jordan had shrugged and said they weren’t restricted from bringing a civilian male into the compound. But, for whatever reason, none of them had one.

“Morning Princess,” Chevie said as he dished out Trish’s usual eggs and potatoes. Jordan hovered protectively over her shoulder, although he didn’t consider the friendly cook any kind of problem. His eyes watched over the newcomers.

“Morning Chevie.” Trish took her plate. “How’s Trix?” She didn’t see the sunny redhead anywhere in the kitchen behind him, where there were quite a few people working.

“She’s good,” Chevie said cheerfully, but didn’t expound further, and there were people behind her, so she had to keep moving. Jordan kept one hand on the small of her back while his other held his plate full of food. He ate nearly three times as much as she did.

Every morning, Jordan chose a different table to sit at and circulate among the Wolf’s soldiers. It was probably part of his job as the Wolf’s second-in-command. It certainly meant she got to see a lot of different aspects of the Wolf’s operations, but no one seemed concerned about what she overheard.

Today, everyone talked about Cora, of course, but instead of talking about whatever was going on, they all discussed her torment of Alex the day before. With Jordan’s hard body next to her, his hard thigh pressed against hers, Trish sat quietly, eating and listening.

“Did you see how shocked Moon Boy was?” one of the women asked, laughing. “Bet he’d never felt anything like that on his nuts before!”

“At least he didn’t cry and beg like the last one, or worse—wet himself.”

“Couldn’t wet himself with that hard-on anyway.”

“Did you see the way Trace was eyeing Pet? Bet you that Cora asks for her next time.”

“Ha, not after the way she enjoyed Toy! She actually got to have some fun with a Moon Boy for once!”

“Ten credits she gives in to Trace and takes Pet.”

“Done!”

The happy banter and cheerful betting felt incongruous with the events of the day before. Trish shivered. Sometimes she wondered about the people of Earth.

Everyone was nice to her. They enjoyed watching Bella and Alex’s debasement, but they seemed to see some difference between Trish and the other two captives. Was it because she was with Jordan and not the Wolf? Or because it was well known Trish was an orphan and not part of the privileged classes who lived on the Moon?

The soldiers were all derisive of the Moon families; contemptuous, even. Alex had garnered some small amount of respect and fascination, although he probably wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear that since the reaction was a group desire to see more of his debasement, to try to predict his reactions. She’d seen more than one bet being settled over his behavior.

Bella’s behavior was less interesting to them. Her reactions were similar to those they’d seen before, although more than one person had commented that if Alex hadn’t been taking up so much attention, then Bella might have been more of a standout. She had a grace under pressure; a steady bravery that kept her going.

Trish had started trying to emulate her in some ways.

When she’d first been taken, Trish had been nearly hysterical, and her first few days had been hard. But she’d seen how Bella had stayed calm and done whatever she’d needed to do. She hadn’t seemed to dwell on the things that were done to her; she’d held herself together and hadn’t fallen apart, no matter what the provocation.

Trish had the unfortunate suspicion that her trying to do the same was feeding into her own problem—she’d become so accustomed to this life she had trouble imagining leaving it. It should have been terrifying, but what was really scary was it didn’t terrify her.

What did she have to go back to, after all? At least here, she felt wanted. Cherished. Desired.

Yeah… She was definitely losing it.

“Here, Trish.” A pancake was dumped onto her plate by one of the women across the table—a hard-edged brunette whose name Trish couldn’t remember, although she’d seen her around often enough. The woman frowned at Jordan. “You need to take better care of her, Jordan She’s barely touched her food and she hardly weighs anything as it is.”

Oh shoot.

The big blond turned away from the man he’d been talking to and frowned down at Trish.

“Sorry.” She blinked up at him. “I’m eating.” Trish shoveled a forkful of eggs into her mouth and then began cutting up the pancake.

Jordan stroked his hand over her head before letting it come to rest on the back of her neck, a steady reminder of his presence. And to eat. Trish was exasperated, but there was no point. The brunette went back to her own conversation, but kept one eye on Trish. It was unsettling, after years where no one cared what she did or how she was, to be so constantly under everyone’s scrutiny. Strangely caring scrutiny, sometimes.

After breakfast, Jordan picked up the food he always brought to Bella and Alex. He was leading Trish out of the cafeteria when he got a call on his com-unit. He put one hand to his ear and then pulled her to the side of the hallway while he answered it.

“Yes… Yes… No… Yes, Sir.”

Jordan grabbed Trish’s hand and pulled her down the hall.

The wrong hall.

“Where are we going?” The change in routine made her uneasy.

A smile flickered across his face. “You’re going to see a secret, little girl.”

The small hallway he took her into was empty, and they were about a third of the way through it when he stopped and faced the wall, which had a marking on it that looked a bit like an s with a horizontal line through the top curve. The marking was all over the compound; Trish had seen it a million times. It was in hallways, rooms… There were three of them in Jordan’s room, and at least a dozen in the cafeteria. It was the kind of innocuous wall decoration that went unnoticed because of its commonness.

Jordan pressed his fingers across the shape quickly; the right end of the bar, the left end, the bottom curve, the top curve, and then on each place where the s intersected the horizontal bar. The wall sank inward and then slid silently to the side.

Trish’s jaw dropped as she stared into the dimly lit hallway beyond, barely hearing Jordan’s chuckle at her shocked reaction. He grabbed her hand in his again and pulled her into the hall. When she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw the door had slid smoothly shut behind them. The same decorative symbol was on this side of the wall.

“Are all of them like that?” she asked. If there were… Good grief, how many secret passageways would be around the compound?

“No. All the passageways are behind symbols, but not all the symbols have passageways,” Jordan said, walking quickly enough that Trish had to trot to keep up with him. His legs were so much longer than hers, but he expected her to make up for it. “The entrances are not commonly known, nor are the way through the passages, although everyone knows they’re there. You could get lost in them if you don’t know where you’re going.”

As if to emphasize his point, they had already reached an intersection that branched off into four other passageways—five, including the one they had just come from—and nothing to differentiate one from another. Jordan took the second to the left without hesitating.

“But what are we doing in here?” Trish looked around for any sign of where they were within the compound. They passed more symbols, so she assumed they were passing exits from the tunnel, but where would they open up?

“There was a… disturbance on our usual route,” he said, unperturbed by both her questions and whatever the disturbance had been. Trish sighed and hoped it wasn’t something too awful. Maybe Cora’s men and the Wolf’s men were fighting?

It might be easier to escape with the two sides fighting each other… but escape to what? Where? Plus, how would she find Bella and Alex? Could she live with leaving them behind? And what would happen to Jordan if there was fighting?

Dammit… She shouldn’t be worried about him, but she didn’t like the idea of him being in real danger. Even though, by all rights, she should have wanted to see him hung out to dry, the idea of his admittedly beautiful body being ripped open by violence made her insides clench in a kind of anguish.

Her suffering from a psychological condition didn’t dissipate the effects of it.

Trish fell silent, disturbed by her own thoughts, and wondered about the passageways behind the compound’s walls. Where did they all lead to?

They went through two more intersections before Jordan stopped in front of another symbol and pressed his fingers in the same pattern as before. The right end of the bar, the left end, the bottom curve, the top curve, and then on each place where the s intersected the horizontal bar. As he did it, Trish stood behind him and watched, silently mouthing the pattern and trying to commit it to memory.

As soon as the new passageway opened and they stepped out into the hall, Trish recognized where they were: steps away from the room where Alex and Bella were kept. Trish was willing to bet she and Jordan had barely lost any time from their detour. One look back at the wall, with its distinctive-but-common decoration, and then Jordan was pulling her along again.

* * *