15
Yulia
Over the next week, Lucas and I settle into an uneasy routine. He has s*x with me every chance he gets—which is at least a couple of times at night and once during the day—and we eat all of our meals together in the kitchen. The rest of the time I spend watching TV while tied to the chair, or sleeping cuffed at Lucas’s side.
“Do you think it would be possible for me to read something?” I ask after two days of binging on TV shows. “I love books, and I miss reading them.”
“What kind of books?” Lucas appears unusually interested.
“All kinds,” I answer honestly. “Romance, thrillers, science fiction, nonfiction. I’m not picky—I just love the feel of a book in my hands.”
“All right,” he concedes, and the next day, he takes me to a small room next to the bedroom. Like the rest of h
