Author's Note: I am sorry I have been away from this story so long. I know I have probably lost some readers due to my long absence, and I truly regret that, and I apologize for the long wait.

Rating: R, for sexual content

Chapter 26

Losing Control

Mark possessed an appearance of vulnerability he couldn't fake in his waking hours if he tried. Had she not witnessed it herself, she would have never imagined he was capable of kidnapping test subjects and deceiving his colleagues and subordinates, nor would she have guessed that he could hypnotize her with a gentle allure and then fuck her senseless like he did the night before. Nor had she ever imagined that any man could do that to her, be both gentle and rough when he wanted to be, when she needed him to be. Somehow the two very different types of sex- making love and hardcore hammering- blended into one when she was with Mark. He was a master of both.

Her body swelled with heat as she examined the rest of him, nearly salivating at the mere idea of the things he could do to her, but while he remained unconscious and defenseless, she found it hard to imagine that he was capable of the things that went on the previous night.

I can restrain you anytime I want to...and you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Oh, how looks can be deceiving, she thought with a smile while he slept on. The facade of helplessness became a reality when she snapped the handcuffs on him.

"Sleep well?" she murmured in his ear, stirring him from slumber. Her checks protruded slightly, brushing against his ear as she smiled. The coy expression he didn't see but could sense put a grin of satisfaction on his own face.

"Best sleep of my life," he replied, forgetting the mild disturbance he had in the middle of the night involving a broken picture frame and a vast recollection of memories he'd rather keep buried than confront again. Once he slipped back into bed, he really did have an excellent sleep, and waking up to her beside him and to her voice enhanced the experience. He felt relaxed and content until he opened his eyes and saw that he was shackled to his bed, with his own fucking handcuffs.

"What...the...hell?" he said in a half-asleep daze. He squinted his eyes, trying to understand what he saw was real, and then he tugged against the silver bracelets restricting him to the headboard.

"Well, last night got me thinking..." Amanda said. Her index finger rose to her bottom lip, and she tapped it like she was trying to send a message in Morse code. Mark was both fascinated and slightly infuriated at the situation he had woken up in. Waking up like this, a prisoner in his own bed, irked him. She knew no boundaries when it came to getting what she wanted. She was frustrating, but as he looked at her mischievous smile, he licked his lips and decided that although she annoyed him, she aroused and slightly amused him as well. It was a fair trade.

"Oh?" Mark said. He swallowed, trying to maintain calamity. Amanda complicated that task by mounting him and massaging his inner thighs. Her eyes traveled along a path her hands soon followed as she reached her desired destination. Then her attention shifted to his face as she rubbed the base of him. His mouth twitched as his eyes fluttered closed. His expression vacillated between surprise and pleasure. Every time she touched him, she lit his nerve endings on fire with the sensual skin-on-skin contact.

She licked her hand and cupped her palm, dripping with warm saliva, over the head of him and stroked up and down.

"Oh," he said again in a different tone conveying a very different meaning. As he tossed his head back against a nearby pillow, his entire pelvic region elevated. She gazed down at him with an amused smile. There mere view of him helpless, yet so entirely willing, was in itself worth the time and energy she'd put into rummaging around through his things in search of his handcuffs.

"Well, it got me thinking that I don't mind losing control to you, Mark. It's fun, letting you take control sometimes. But it's only fair if we take turns, and I had a feeling you weren't going to play fair, so I-"

"I always play fair," he protested. A small groan of pleasure and a slight discomfort followed as she squeezed him.

"Don't interrupt me while I'm talking!" The severity of her voice broke as she giggled, watching him moan as she continued.

"Mmm...Alright," he said, licking his lips as he watched her work him into a fully hard state. She stopped when he began thrusting into her hand, and slowly licked the sides of his shaft, teasing him.

"You're fucking determined to have me at your mercy, aren't you?" he said. "Amanda, don't you realize that I already am? Even without these cuffs? I always have been...Always."

Her heart pounded in her chest for another reason now. She thought she might faint from the sensation of affection that she was feeling for him as he looked up at her with pleading eyes.

"Nice try," she said. "I'm not falling for it. You're not getting out until I'm ready to let you go."

"Worth a shot," he said, shrugging casually, but his face reverted back to sincerity far too quickly. His eyes burned into hers, and despite his casual dismissal, she knew every word he said was true.

I always have been...Always.

"So what's the safe word?" Mark said.

"What?" Amanda asked as if she'd never heard the phrase.

"Well, if we're going to do this," he said, smirking and tugging at the cuffs again. "Aren't we supposed to have a safe word?"

"Psh, safe words are for pussies. Besides, I don't think I'm going to hear any protests from you."

"True," he sighed as she resumed the actions that had originally gotten him into such a hard state. She took him into her mouth as far as it would go without choking her and giggled as he shuddered under her touch. His defenselessness and absolute exposure empowered her, and she finally felt some control, in at least this aspect of her life. It was a feeling she had not felt in so long. She felt feminine and desired as Mark made a wide variety of lustful expressions, first watching her with interest, then being so overwhelmed by the pleasure that he couldn't keep his eyes open, no matter how badly he wanted to watch her getting him off.

"Amanda," he chanted over and over again. Her name sounded so good coming from his lips. She groaned, getting more aroused herself. She removed him from her mouth and laughed as he moaned in protest.

"Oh God, really?" he said. He yanked on his cuffs. It slightly disgusted him knowing how many criminals these had been on (and how they had never been sterilized), but somehow it still aroused him. Perhaps it was just relinquishing control to Amanda that was what made the fetish so appealing.

"I was so close," he complained.

"I know." She softly ran her fingers against his inner thighs and everything in between as though she were fingerpainting.

"What's the magic word?" she said.

"I thought we agreed on no safe words?"

"No idiot, the magic word. The one involving manners."

He couldn't think. Her mental games were too challenging when he was this turned on. A few moments later the answer came to him.

"Please?"

"There we go! Now say it like you mean it, and not like it's a question." She wrapped her hand over his erection.

"Please," he looked her dead in the eyes, swallowing hard.

"Please what?"

"Oh God, you know what!"

"Yes, but that's not the point. I want to hear you say it." She caressed the tip of him to give him some encouragement.

"Please, get me off, Amanda. Please do something, anything. Finish blowing me or fuck me, just do it now!"

"Hmmm…," she said. The second option seemed much more desirable now that she was so aroused herself. "Okay."

She grabbed one of the remaining condoms on top of Mark's dresser and put it on him. She threw her leg over him, and as she directed him inside of her, their voices merged in a single loud moan. She rode him fast and hard. Both of them were close to the edge already. Although they tried to prolong it, they both came mere minutes later, screaming and slamming against each other. She collapsed onto his chest and listened as his heartbeat hammered in his chest.

She finally removed herself from him and took the cuffs off. She smiled innocently. He sat up and glared at her.

"If you ever do that again…"

"You'll just have an incredible orgasm and beg for me again? Admit it, Detective, this is one part of your life where you don't mind losing control."

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

"In bed? Yeah, I know. And even if I didn't, between last night and this morning, I'm pretty sure I could have figured it out myself."

He grabbed her and pulled her close to him. She giggled from the surprise of her sudden capture and from the euphoria coursing through her. Feeling her beside him never failed to either drive him mad with desire or completely calm him. It amazed him that there was never any in between when it came to the effect she had on him.

"I'll agree to that," he whispered in her ear. She shivered as his hot breath invaded her tender nerve endings and her mind. He smiled as he spoke again.

"But next time it's my turn."

After round two they had a simple but satisfying breakfast of eggs and bacon, which was a much desired upgrade from Amanda's usual diet that consisted of packaged food labeled instant for every meal from breakfast till dinner. Mark cooked while Amanda watched television. She noticed that the picture frame she broke the night before was gone and realized that at some point Mark got up in the middle of the night and took care of it. Had she even expressed regret for breaking the frame? It was an accident, but still, common courtesy required at least a face saving apology, but she could not muster the courage to make one. She concluded that it was probably better not to mention it anyways. He always got that distant look in his eyes when he spoke of his sister, and she didn't usually care that he did, but right now Mark's mind was on her and her alone, and she liked it that way.

She breezed through the channels until she saw a snobbish blonde reporter on the news talking about John.

"Despite knowing the identity of the Jigsaw killer, the police are still not one step closer to apprehending John Kramer, nor is there any new information on the disappearance of Detective Eric Matthews. His son, Daniel, is here on behalf of his father to plead for John Kramer to release him."

Daniel, looking physically well but emotionally agitated, leaned over the microphone and opened his mouth. He hesitated. His eyes darted from the camera to the reporter at his side, then back to the camera. Amanda watched the screen with interest now, feeling a pang of remorse for the boy.

"I know you think you're helping people, but you've also hurt a lot of people too. All I want is my dad back. You don't have to turn yourself in or anything, but just let my dad go. Let me see my dad again, please. And Dad, if you can hear this, I love you and I'm sorry-"

The camera turned back to the reporter who cut Daniel off mid-sentence. "Words of sorrow from one of the few Jigsaw victims to make it out of the deadly Jigsaw games alive!" Her eyes grew wide as the cameraman zoomed in closer to her.

"Will this poor boy ever be reunited with his father, or will Eric Matthews forever be one of the many Jigsaw victims who disappear and are never heard from again?"

Daniel closed his eyes and shuddered. Amanda's heart ached. She felt some remorse over Eric's fate now, not because she had a smidgen of sympathy for the jerk who severely messed up her life, but because of the pain this was causing Daniel. The ridiculous reporter wasn't helping the situation any either. Her apathetic indifference to talking about Eric's potentially bleak fate right in front of his son was not missed on Amanda.

"Join us at ten tonight for more details on this fascinating, although horrific case. Signing off for now, this is Pamela Jenkins on Local 2 News." She flipped her hair and widened her eyes. For all the effort she put into performing for the camera, she would have made a better actress than a reporter.

"What a cunt," Amanda said. She flipped the TV off and walked up to Mark to put her arms around his naked waist while he flipped eggs. She had to get Daniel off her mind, and her handsome lover-turned-personal-chef was as good of a distraction as any.

"Smells good," she said.

He smirked. "That's because it's real food, something you don't know much about."

She smacked him playfully with the sleeve of his own shirt that she was wearing because her own garments were still wet from being soaked with water the night before.

"The reporter that was just on the T.V. is a bitch," she said. He nodded.

"Yeah, she's come by the department a few times sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. She's obnoxious, but dealing with people like her is part of the job."

Amanda nodded sympathetically, stealing a piece of bacon from one of the plates.

"Hey, that's my plate, thief!"

"How do you know which one is your plate? They're exactly the same!"

"No they're not, because this one has more food."

"Not anymore," she said, and took another piece. He spanked her. She giggled and reciprocated the gesture. They continued their banter all morning, relieved and more comfortable than ever before in each other's presence due to the absence of sexual frustration. There was only sexual anticipation now, and that was something they both thoroughly enjoyed.

After breakfast, Mark looked at his watch, wondering how much longer he could keep Amanda away from John until he was forced to return her. This morning had been too good to last forever, and he dreaded its conclusion.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Ten," he said. It was actually much closer to eleven than ten.

"We should really head back," she said. "John might be worried."

Mark snorted. "About you maybe."

"He cares for you too, I think. In his own way." She tried to sound believable, but there was no conviction in her words.

"Amanda, he hardly cares for you, and you're his protégé."

"Well, anyway, we need to head back."

Mark grunted. He left their dishes and went in his room to get dressed. Amanda put the plates in the dishwasher as if she were more than just a guest there, and looked again at Mark's shrine. A light layer of dust had accumulated on the shelves, with a clean spot as a reminder of the frame she had broken yesterday. She felt a tinge of guilt at the sight of the white spot. Compared to the thick layer of dust on his dresser where she had searched for his handcuffs and the other hints of poor housekeeping, such as the streaks on his windows and grime between the tiles in his bathroom, he clearly paid more attention to the shrine than the rest of his house. While studying the shrine, this abnormal entity that stuck out among the normality of Mark's otherwise unremarkable residence, she noticed that the necklace she saw earlier was a locket. Careful not to disturb or break anything else, she opened it up and peaked inside. A picture of a family of four was inside of it on one side. An engraving was on the other side.

Family is Forever

"Not always," she whispered, thinking of both her and Mark's families. She put the locket back, careful to position it exactly where it was.

She sat back down and looked around the humble apartment. It wasn't much, but she would miss seeing this part of Mark, this semblance of an ordinary life among their otherwise very tumultuous lives.

"Ready?" he asked when he returned. She nodded.

"Almost. I need my pants," she said.

"Truthfully, I prefer you this way," he smirked. He slid his arms around her and rested his hands on her bottom as if to demonstrate exactly why her current half-naked state was his preference. He gently squeezed the soft flesh and pressed her against him.

"Yeah, but John might not. Or your neighbors. It's hard to keep a low-profile walking around in just a shirt." She rested her hands on his chest.

"True," he said. After a moment of staring at each other, a habit that was becoming more and more common between them this morning, he untangled himself from her and went to the bathroom to retrieve them.

"They're still wet," he said.

She shrugged and put them on. They fought her stubbornly as she struggled to squeeze into them. She used the couch for support, but still managed to tumble over a few times. Mark smiled, biting his lips trying not to laugh.

"Okay I'm ready!" she said once she finally managed to button her jeans. He opened the door, and she said a silent good-bye to his apartment. They made it to his car before she blushed as she remembered she left her panties on his bathroom floor.

Oops!

12 Missed Calls

All of them were from Kerry. She left half a dozen messages. Several of them were about Daniel and the news broadcast that had occurred that morning. In one of the messages she babbled so long and frantically that he was not sure if she even remembered she was leaving a message by the end of it. Mark delivered Amanda back to the building he thought of as a prison that she tried to think of as home, much to his chagrin.

"I don't want to leave, but I really have to," he said. "Don't take it the wrong way. Last night, and this morning was…"

"I know. I'm amazing…and you were pretty good in the sack too."

He shook his head, smiling in amusement.

"I didn't just mean that part of our little adventure, but alright."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded her head, acknowledging that something much more had occurred. Mark's eyes darted around frantically. If he wanted this to continue, secrecy was necessary, as much as he would love to shove it in the old man's face that he had finally gotten to Amanda and obtained a part of her heart the old man could never touch. After assuring himself that they were alone, he kissed her quickly but intensely, not stopping until they were both slightly out of breath.

"Is that the kind of kiss I can expect every time we have to part for a couple hours?" she asked.

"Absolutely."

"Then you should start leaving more often," she joked. He winked at her and left. Amanda began looking for John in all the usual places, hoping that he had not chosen last night to start paying attention to her again. Something felt off. Usually John was hard to get ahold of, but not this hard to find. She had assumed that John was ignoring her, or at least was so concerned with his work that she had taken a backseat priority for the time being, but what if it was something else entirely? She never noticed if he worked the entire time he was gone, since she tried to keep busy by preoccupying her mind with other things. She immediately began to feel worried, and made it her mission to find John immediately.

"John," she shouted. Her eyes investigated every crevice of the building. Where could he be? It was almost noon. He should not be sleeping at this late hour, and he never left the building anymore now that it was common knowledge that he was Jigsaw.

She eventually found him in his bed. Her chest fell as she let out a much needed sigh, but her relief was short lived. John never rested during the day. He was adamant about working all day, from designing traps to constructing them and testing them, and then retesting them until he was satisfied with the perfection of the mechanics.

This meant he was getting worse, and here she had assumed his absence had something to do with her. She felt stupid. If John was getting sicker, then last night was the worst possible time to leave. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she was here now, and would not leave his side again so long as he needed her.

"John," she whispered. She kneeled down so that she was level with him."Is there anything I can do for you?"

He nodded.

"Water. Something to eat. I don't feel up to fixing it myself."

She rushed out of the room, wondering how long he had went without eating, and feeling a sick nausea form in her stomach as she thought about the meal that she and Mark had shared that morning.

It's not my fault. Aren't I entitled to a life too? Some shred of happiness among all this death…

She focused on making John the best possible meal she could with her limited culinary skills. Instant soup, crackers, toast, water, and apple slices, peeled and cut up into eighths herself. She took the food into his room and helped him sit upright. While getting him up, he turned towards the trash can as nausea threatened to propel whatever remnants of food remaining within him from his stomach. His body continued going through the motions of vomiting, but nothing came up because there was nothing left inside of him to relinquish to the waste bin.

She winced. It was painful to watch him, once so strong and intimidating, crumble before her eyes like a piece of paper being crushed into a ball before disposal.

"Is there anything else I can do?" she whispered. He nodded. He pointed to his desk.

"The drawing on that table. Look at it. Study it. It is your next project."

She walked over to the table and sat down. She tried her best to focus on it, but all she could do was peer over at John out of the corner of her eyes to make sure he was eating. After he finished, she was capable of not just looking at the lines on the paper but actually seeing and understanding them.

A ribcage hung suspended in the air. A jar of acid held the key, an acid so potent it could dissolve the metal in under a minute, or so the sidenote John had scribbled in the margin said.

"So who is it for? I need the information to give to Mark."

John shook his head.

"I said it's your project."

She shook her head, confused.

"That means you decide. It is entirely your project."

Amanda's hand rose to her throat. This meant John was getting closer to the end if he was already preparing her to do independent projects. He put his tray on the table beside him and laid back down.

"Now leave me so I can rest."

She nodded and walked out the door, but lingered in the hallway. She felt a sharp penetrating pain in her chest. The narrow hallway seemed to be closing in on her. She didn't know whether to stay so she could be close to John, or leave so she could get him out of her head for a moment. She ended up staying there for hours, curled in a ball, quietly sobbing, waiting for the pain to subside. She curled her hands into fists and squeezed so hard that she drew blood. She stared at the four crimson crescents that had formed in her flesh, and for a moment she found calamity again.