Almost three weeks later is where I find myself now. My fortunes haven't changed at all, as I am still a prisoner to his will and body. Every morning he chains my hands and touches me and makes me come unwillingly. Afterward, he leaves to do his job for his group and he ties me to a pole in his room where I can't move for hours. When he gets back, he feeds me while I'm still tied down. He removes me from my pole and takes me to his bathroom, fucks me, cleans me up, and carries me to his bed. He plays music for me to fall asleep to, singing to me, literally dedicating such precious songs to his pet like me.

That's all I am. A pet.

For nearly a month I have watched and endured this process I am stuck in, waiting for death or a chance to kill myself. I gave up on being looked for, since I don't have any family. I gave up on trying to escape, since my one and only attempt to do so during my first week ended with the most painful of sex and torture I had ever received. He hit me a few times, but it was the toys he used on me that hurt the most. The way he made me actually want to come but tied off the tip of my erection, making it nearly impossible. The way he stuck things inside me and watched my ass swallow each and every toy as if I wanted it. And whenever I begged no, he'd just laugh, as if he thought….as if he knew that I was lying.

Over time I began to crave his tall lean sexy body, his long nimble fingers, his soft warm lips. And as much as I hated myself for desiring him, the more I yearned for his touch. His daily routine for me had little to no changes, and I expected to be fucked at a certain hour, I expected to be touched and fondled, to be played with and to be kissed, to be told that I was loved, even if I didn't believe him.

He always sensed my disbelief, because I would just cry whenever he said it, like I was growing old of hearing such bullshit.

"You don't believe me or you don't want to?" He asked me the other night.

"I cant. How? How can you expect me to believe that you love me when you are so cruel to me?" I sobbed, not afraid to weep or show my fear in front of him; as long as I didn't fight back, he didn't use too much force.

"How am I cruel? I don't hit you without warning when you misbehave, I don't yell at you; all I do is make sweet love to you. You don't have to work, don't have to study, don't have to do anything but be loved. What more could you want?" He paused himself from thrusting inside me as I continued to sniffle.

"I want to go back to my old life."

"Do you not love me? Not at all?" For the first time ever, he seemed hurt. He had always been so positive and cheerful during my stay here, but now he seemed like he was the one about to cry.

"How can I love someone who kidnapped me and rapes me?" I asked, not able to make eye contact as he pulled out. He seemed upset, but didn't unleash his fury the way I expected someone with his power to.

"If that's how you feel," He said, gripping my hair, dragging me off his bed, and chained me to my pole.

"Wait, no!" I cried out. I didn't want to sleep against something so cold and hard, not when I could sleep in the safety of his arms.

"Goodnight." He said, turning off the lights, the sound of him climbing into bed echoing in my ears as I begged him to untie me. Without the soft melodies of his music and the gentle touch of his skin against mine, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep.

I somehow managed to doze off right when I could feel daytime nearing, and I woke up as he got ready for the day.

"Demyx?" I called his name, my hair completely covering one of my eyes as it usually did, especially after a restless night.

He ignored me.

"Demyx?" I repeated, louder, but again I was ignored. He walked right past me without looking at me, and in his khaki cargo pants and lose sky blue button up shit, sleeves folded just at the elbows, he left his room.

I went the entire day alone, quiet, cold, naked, and chained to that fucking pole. He didn't touch me like he usually does in the morning. He didn't fuck me, didn't kiss me, didn't roam his fingertips over my trembling skin. He just left. And that's when I realized that I missed him.

When he came back into his room late that night, I had a strong urge to be with him. I didn't care anymore; I didn't care if he fucked me, didn't care if he made me bleed and cry; I just wanted him to hold me, to tell me that I was loved.

During my bedtime ritual every damn night, while he played his beautiful music, he'd say those bittersweet words of how much he cared for me, about how precious I am to him, and about how I meant the world to him.

As he would speak, I would be snuggled into his blankets, warm, barely conscious as I was stuck between the world of the awake and the realm of the asleep.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I'd catch myself smiling every now and then.

"Demyx!" My head sprang up when I heard him close his bedroom door behind him.

He sighed as he dropped off a satchel on his bed and sat down, appearing tired.

"Demy?" I made up that nickname on the spot, and it worked. He looked up, unable to hide a shallow smile, and walked over to me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, untying me and I fell into his arms.

"Don't do that to me again, please." I said, clawing at his clothes, trying to get as physically close to him as two bodies could be.

"I'm sorry I left you restrained."

"I missed you!" I felt so vulnerable, as if I had given in, but part of me didn't even care.

"You, you what?" He asked, taken back by my words.

"Don't leave me to sleep on my own! I missed you!" I closed my watering eyes as he held me. That night, we didn't make love; we just fell asleep in each other's arms as he sang beautiful songs dedicated to me.

That was three nights ago.

Since then, he hasn't forced me into the act; his kisses are gentle and scarce, and his hands are careful and loving. And now, as I had gained more freedom without having to be shackled or tied, I began to grow deep feelings for him.

I couldn't think about telling him I loved him, because the concept of love had always been so foreign to me, and for someone who still had kidnapped me and raped me, that just didn't seem possible. But I had told him that I had missed him, so was love all that far behind?

Author's Note: Ooooh, Zexy's growing some feelings here O.o I wonder what will happen next hehehe ^_^

To boxthissideup: haha yes! Sex slaves in fanfics can make for some good stories and conflicts. Yeah, I kind of made Demyx a bit more….on the …..dislikeable side, as a change from the absolute PERFECT person I always see him as ^_^ But in the next Zemyx, you'll be more in favor of Demyx than Zexion, but I'm going to leave it at that ;)

To casper: awesome name first of all lol. Aww, I'm SO GLAD that you LOVED IT! Yea, as I told boxthissideup, I really like seeing change in character portrayals, because I see a lot of the same ol' same ol' here on fanfic, and even if the change is unagreeable, it can still be likeable. I recommend that you read one of my stories, No More Broken Promises, if you like reading character-role-switch ups. It's an AkuRoku, rated M, and it shows Axel as more vulnerable and Roxas as more independent and …..different…lol. Also, I am extending that story soon, so yeah, just wanted to put that out there, if you don't mind ^_^. Thanks again for the support, and I always post at least once a day =)

To 18plusforme: Fuck yea I love YOU so much! (heart) I'm glad you like the plot, because I was afraid I made it a bit too obscure at first. HAHAHA, well, I totally wouldn't mind! Lmao. Seriously tho, you're awesome, thank you SO much for making me smile with that sweet comment ^_^

Thanks everyone for reading! This is a super short fanfic, so it is actually half-way done! O_O Sad, I know! But don't forget that another Zemyx is up after this, along with the sequel to Butterflies! So stay caught up with all the fanfics, cause there is SO much more on the way ^_^

Heart, Sarabellum