Made my own prompt with the Spinny Spin Thing website (Google it yourself) and wrote this in less than 10 minutes. I have no heart or mind to write anything more direct or elaborate than this.
His disposition towards the choked whimpers she made seemed to change from day to day. Sometimes they irritated him, sometimes they aroused him. It didn't make the sex any more enjoyable whether he snapped at her or lavished her with attention.
When his hand wrap around her collar's chain and pulls, she feels like she's about to both choke and vomit. The loud chattering of the links against the floor makes her shiver and she often ends up silently weeping while she's forced to crawl towards him for her meal.
She hates it. She absolutely despises it but there is nothing she can do.
There are times when being a good prisoner earns her a reward. She is well aware of the dangers of Stockholm Syndrome, she knows that looking forward to a captor's kindness is dangerous, but she has been in this cell for so long and a day hasn't gone by when he hasn't raped her.
She takes her breaks whenever she can get them. The mind can only take so much.
She's not willing to go crazy. She is willing to lie on her back and take him inside her for those few moments after his climax when he gathers her up close and holds her. She can close her eyes and pretend it's someone else. At least with sex she can pretend someone cares. Even if it's actually him and there is no tenderness. At least she still has her imagination, her ability to create.
She hasn't quite given up on ever being rescued, but in concurrence with that...she figures she should devote her energies to the here and now.
He is sitting at the table with the chain in the hand that is being used to prop up his head. He watches offhandedly as she services him. If she does this well he sometimes doesn't penetrate her. At this point she really doesn't prefer it either way, but she knows not to make her apathy known.
When she is finished he grins and grabs ahold of her chin. His thumb pushes its way past her lips and she obediently sucks on it like a child. He thinks it's erotic. Her body would disagree.
It turns out he wants her after all. She climbs into his lap and he tortures her with his evil, disturbing hand until she finds her own release. She is allowed to find momentary solace in his hug while he idly rubs the moisture from between her legs directly into her skin like a balm.
When she wakes up the next morning they're in bed and his arms are around her. If she remains completely still they could sleep the whole day away. She is counting on it.