Chapter Twelve

Sakura dozed fitfully for the rest of the day, the blessed unconsciousness she sought evading her the moment she got too close. The discomfort the restraints caused had no little role in this.

Sakura liked to sleep on her sides or on her stomach, and only rarely on her back when it was a particularly warm night and she needed extra control of the ventilation from her blankets. Due to this, being forced into the position she was in was exceedingly uncomfortable and the fact that Madara was just simply that cruel caused added fuel to the fires of her resentment.

She'd behaved perfectly well all day, unless one counted the vomiting, which to be fair she'd had no control over. She hadn't done anything to go against him, had made no escape attempts—yet—and overall had been completely compliant and even quiet about it.

But he couldn't even leave one hand free so that she could sleep. Not even one, and it wasn't like she could untie the other one with only one hand. His decision was just needless maliciousness.

Around sunset, the burgeoning hunger that had begun a couple of hours after her nausea had calmed down made itself very clearly known, and she was no longer able to even attempt to doze. She thought about calling on Madara, but it was also getting dark, and she knew what activities many people reserved for the nighttime hours. She wasn't going to bring that on herself, and what if maybe he wasn't in the mood tonight? She wasn't going to trigger it.

Madara came, though about an hour later, carrying a tray with what looked like artfully crafted nigiri. Unless he had the talent of a master sushi chef hidden beneath layers of rapist and disgusting piece of shit, he had ordered out. Despite the sudden loss of appetite at seeing him, the sight of food made her mouth water. It was an odd combination to say the least.

"Good evening, Sakura-chan. I hope you slept well," he said as he placed the tray down before freeing her right hand. So she was going to have to eat one-handed. Fantastic.

Sakura didn't say anything, instead opting to struggle with the chopsticks. He snatched them away from her and she looked up at him, deeply offended. Now she was going to be forced to forego utensils?

"When I speak to you, you will respond," he said quietly but firmly. When Sakura said nothing, he raised an eyebrow pointedly.

"Okay," she replied slowly and angrily. He broke apart the chopsticks and handed them to her, then motioned for her to eat.

It was difficult, but luckily what she lacked in dexterity she compensated with eagerness. The food was definitely takeout, but probably from a nice place that normally wouldn't allow takeout if one wasn't Uchiha Madara. Sakura wasn't going to worry about that right now though. She'd take what she could get.

"You won't ever want for anything."

Sakura abruptly felt ill at the remembered conversation and the food that had just a second ago tasted delicious now felt like ash in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow and then retreated from the tray.

"Are you done?" Madara asked as though it wasn't obvious.

Sakura almost didn't respond, but remembered what he'd said and grudgingly replied, "Yeah."

He nodded and left with the tray. Sakura, now feeling both satisfied and dissatisfied simultaneously, leaned back against the headboard and wondered how she was going to cope with the rest of the night now that she'd been reminded of the terrible conversation that had transpired at breakfast.

She supposed she'd just blocked it out because it was too hard to hear. Now, though, she'd been reminded and she didn't think she'd be able to avoid it so easily again.

Just as she was about to accept that she was going to be stuck thinking about the information on her captivity that she'd received, Madara returned. At the sight of him, she flinched and curled in on herself.

"Now that's not very welcoming at all, Sakura-chan," he chided lightly.

"Leave me alone," she hissed.

"In my own room?" he said with false incredulousness. Then his tone hardened. "I think not."

She shrank in on herself as far she could go.

"I am a man with needs, Sakura," he said, throwing out the suffix and making her feel that much more uncomfortable. "But I also have the propensity to be generous. You can choose how you will pleasure me tonight."

Sakura stiffened in horror and looked up at him, hoping that he was joking and also knowing that he wasn't at all. And the way he'd said it—at least he wasn't pretending he was here to make her feel good. She was inordinately thankful for that, because the only thing that could be worse than being raped was enjoying it too.

"No," she said weakly, and cursed that she didn't sound strong.

He seated himself on the bed. "You'd prefer I choose then?"

Sakura turned her head away, fighting tears and clutching her knees to her chest in a flimsy attempt at protection.

Suddenly, her hair was being yanked backwards, forcing her to meet his eyes. She yelped at how close he was, right in her face and looking particularly angry. "Sakura, I told you to respond."

Pain and his proximity made her panic and she hated herself for it. "P-please," she begged, trying to move away from him, but he maintained the same distance until she was pushed right up against the headboard.

"Answer the question: do you want me to choose?"

Sakura felt like she was going to be sick. How-how could he do this? Make her complicit in his abuse. But she had no choice. Shuddering, she whispered with almost no voice, "Yes."

"What was that?" But he was so close there was no way he couldn't have heard her.

"Yes!" she yelled loudly, hoping it would hurt his eardrums.

He only smirked in satisfaction. "Well done."

She could feel tears building up in her eyes and her face was hot with shame. However, she was soon distracted by him releasing her hair and also undoing the remaining leather tie.

Madara motioned to the floor. "Get on your knees."

Sakura jerked like she had just been lashed with a whip. No… no, he couldn't really mean…

It was too much. She couldn't—he couldn't do this. No, no. She wouldn't.

His eyes narrowed at her defiance, and he gripped her bicep punishingly. "Sakura, don't make me angry."

She was shaking too much though. She couldn't, she wouldn't. All she was able to do was stare at him with horrified, pleading eyes, begging him to just drop it, to not make this happen, to just not do this.

He stood and dragged her to the edge of the bed until she fell off, and only his bruising grip stopped her from collapsing to the ground. However, when he released her, she crumpled to her knees anyway, tears streaking down her cheeks and muted sobs building in her throat.

Ignoring her, he took his seat at the edge and unzipped his trousers before freeing that thing, and Sakura choked on air at the length, at the girth, at the very image of what she was supposed to put in her mouth. The tears streaked hotter and faster and she bit her lip hard, punishingly, as though she could glue her lips together with her blood and he wouldn't be able to force her to do this.

"Up, Sakura," the monster ordered. "Take me in your mouth."

At the thought, she retched, but he wasn't fazed by it this time. A hand fisted in her hair and brought her shrieking to her knees, her mouth even with his groin. Sakura clenched her jaw together in refusal, and the hand in her hair pulled her up until she was screaming and fighting against his hold.

Then, suddenly, she felt something hot and silky and hard force its way into her mouth and she gagged, but it was now there to stay. "Now suck."

She sobbed against his cock but the hand released her and all she could do was steady herself on the bed with her hands and tentatively close her mouth down around it. Bite it off, she thought venomously, but already knew that wasn't an option.

Not yet, at least.

Tears still coming hard, she bobbed her head up and down, trembling with revulsion but unable to do anything about it. The monster's hand stayed on her head, guiding gently, and she longed to shake it off, but couldn't without angering him and making it worse for herself. She sobbed around him and he groaned in pleasure, which prompted another sob.

"Mm," he hummed appreciatively.

Sakura paused, unable to keep doing this with his disgusting sounds ringing in her ears. The hand 'guiding' her quickly moved to the back of her head and forced her down so that he went past her mouth and down her throat. She screamed, choked, and tried to pull away, but he held her tight until she was sure she was going to suffocate.

"Did I tell you that you could stop?" he growled, barely audible over her own panic. Sakura didn't care; she leveraged her arms against the bed and pushed, and she was free at last.

For only a moment, though.

"Sakura, Sakura, Sakura," the monster said, sounding terribly disappointed as he stood, cock still erect and glistening with her saliva. "You just can't behave, can you?"

She had to run. There was no other way to end this. It was only going to get worse from here.

Sakura scrambled away, but she was caught around the middle and pulled into him. "Let's try this another way." He turned her around and forced her to her knees again.

Then there was no chance for her to fight. He rammed his cock down her throat, she screamed, and he held her head in place with a firm grip on her hair and forced her to meet his thrusts with her own momentum.

When he came, there was so much it flooded into her mouth and he hissed, "Swallow."

With him still halfway down her throat, all she could do was comply.

And then he released her and she fell to her hands and knees, choking and willing his essence to come back up, give him something to clean, but despite her revulsion it was stuck inside her. She coughed and sobbed and collapsed on the ground as he wiped himself off and then tidied his appearance.

"Could use some work," he murmured thoughtfully.

Sakura screamed.

She spent the rest of the night crying helplessly, so much and so loudly that Madara stuffed her mouth with—with her panties—and fastened masking tape over her lips. Her sounds were muffled then, at least enough so he could sleep, and then all was silent in the through except through her heavy breathing through her nose.

It was a night of hell on earth.

As to be expected, she eventually exhausted herself and fell into fitful slumber full of nightmares. In every one of them she was suffocating, something stuck down her mouth and throat, and she woke up terrified because there was something in her mouth and she couldn't spit it out and her lips were taped shut.

Madara slept in, his breathing even and peaceful the entire time while Sakura laid there, unable to stop crying now that she was awake. Her tears didn't seem close to even slowing, despite the rawness of her cheeks and eyes. It was starting to hurt; she wanted to stop crying.

But it hurt so much. She didn't know what would happen if she stopped expending her pain.

When he finally opened his eyes and sighed contentedly, Sakura moved as far away from him as her restraints would allow.

It wasn't very far.

He rolled over and faced her teary, bloodshot eyes and puffy red cheeks. "Sleep well?" he asked, the question nothing short of cruel.

She clenched her eyes shut, unable to look at his smug face, and shook her head because he wanted an answer and she was afraid.

Sakura flinched away when she felt a large hand caress her hair and then cheek. "It will get better, Sakura-chan. You just have to behave."

She choked on a sob but said nothing. In that moment, she almost hoped he was right.

That had been…horrific. Such an evilness should not exist, should not be allowed to exist. But it did, and it had happened to her.

The monster had happened to her.

She started crying again.

The hand caressing her did not cease. "Shh. It will be alright." Then he was pulling her into his body and she couldn't do it, couldn't do this, but she couldn't push him away either. Her body was strung tight as a wire and she spasmed erratically, terrified, in his hold.

He just continued stroking her hair and held her more tightly. "Shh, shh."

After a moment, he pulled back and removed the masking tape from her mouth as gently as he could. It still hurt, the adhesive having melded against her skin because of her body heat, but he would have torn skin if he had done it any faster than he had. Then he, again gently, pulled her panties out of her mouth. Ragged sobs escaped her immediately.

"I think it's time I show you something," he said like an announcement. "To preserve your sanity."

Those words were almost heartening. She didn't particularly care what he was going to show her, but preserving sanity seemed like a good idea to her. She didn't want to lose herself here. She had to hold on to the hope that she would someday be free of him forever.

But when his hand crept between her thighs, she realized he wasn't going to 'show' her anything she wanted to see, and she began to thrash. "No! No! No!"

He gripped her tightly and held her still, a knee wedged between her thighs to grant access. "Trust me, Sakura. This will be good for you."

"I will never trust you!" she shrieked, and Madara twitched violently, like he had wanted to hit her. But he restrained himself for whatever reason in his twisted mind, instead choosing to part her lower lips and press his index finger against her clit. She felt absolutely nothing other than disgust, but he was persistent. Sakura told herself she would be just as persistent in not responding.

But slowly, a small flame built up inside her from the pad of his finger insistently rubbing against her in a circular pattern that somehow ignited her body's natural reactions. Still caught in his grasp, Sakura keened miserably, but he wouldn't let up until she was slick and wet.

"There," he said softly. He shifted his body so he was aligned and she screamed, struggling ineffectively against him, and then he sheathed himself inside her.

She began to cry again. "Please… please, stop," she begged.

"Hush. It won't hurt this time." As if that was a good thing.

But he was right. Her own lubricating juices allowed him to slip in with—not ease, but little resistance. He filled her too much, until she was bursting, and she could hardly believe he could fit himself entirely inside her. But then, that would explain why it had hurt so bad before.

Madara began to move in small increments, ostensibly letting her adjust, but Sakura knew he wasn't even that kind. She shivered in revulsion, especially now that her body was reacting in a much different way. He angled himself and pressed against something inside her that she had never felt before, only ever seeking her clitoris when she had masturbated. But the monster was touching this deep, almost sacred part of her, and it felt good.

She gasped harshly at the zing that shot through her, and then she started to fight again. No, no! This couldn't be happening!

"Shh," he continued. "Shh." And he continued that hated movement until he was moving in and out of her with true ease and her body seemed to welcome him inside her like he was coming home.

He was right, it didn't hurt—not physically, at least. There was something shattering in her and she felt heat flushing her cheeks, her body strung taut like a bowstring, the fluctuation of internal muscles around him.

Madara moved harder, with greater, agonizing accuracy, and she felt the urge to move back against him. Inside, she screamed at herself to resist the urge.

However, her body seemed to have a mind of its own. As his speed increased, her hips reacted, and she felt broken but couldn't stop it, a soft gasp escaping her through her grimace. There was a soft squelching noise from where they continued to connect. Sakura felt sick.

Then he was pounding into her, and it should have hurt, but it didn't, not the way it had before. She was on fire now, muscles twitching as writhed, not sure how to process these sensations. Madara released his tight grip on her and started to gently tug and roll her nipple between his fingertips, lancing a whole new fire through her.

"See? It's not all bad. If you're good, it doesn't have to be bad at all."

Sakura barely heard him but knew on some level that whatever he had said, she disagreed with it because he had said it. Instead, at one particularly rough thrust, she shattered around him, milking and clenching him like a vice. He groaned, a lewd, pleased sound that she hadn't heard before, and he released himself inside her. They had all but come at the same time, together.

Madara panted as he came down while she remained shuddering around him. He hadn't pulled out yet, too dazed, and she was overstimulated. His cock, though softening, was still touching the part inside her that had wrung her body dry of everything, and it hurt.

"Please…" she finally whispered, trying to wiggle away. "It hurts…"

In a baffling lack of cruelty, he pulled out of her at last, and his semen started to leak out of her at last. She couldn't even spare a thought for how much she hated the sensation.

"So, Sakura-chan," Madara said, "how was it? Not so bad, hm?"

Not knowing what to do other than not anger him, Sakura nodded. It wasn't in agreement; instead, it was a mechanical motion because that was what was expected of her. He untied her then and she shifted away, curling in on herself.

It was difficult to think, even more to feel. She wasn't sure what to do if he could actually make her enjoy it. What happened next? Did he train her to be his little slut so he could rape her whenever he pleased? He had made it clear he wanted it to be rape; he'd told her to fight him in the bedroom. But that would have to get boring eventually—he had implied differently, but what happened when he got bored? Was she discarded like trash? Would there be other survivors of Uchiha Madara? Or… did he kill them? Did she face death once he lost interest? He was thorough like that. She'd just disappear, body left to rot in his no-doubt spacious backyard. She thought him killing her after everything might be a mercy compared staying alive after even these last few days.

It was like a switch was flipped, and suddenly couldn't care anymore.

"Come, let's get you fed," he said, affection in his voice. She didn't—couldn't—hear it, because the monster was a monster and held no regard for anyone except himself, but she obediently followed him into the dining room. He wasn't bothered when she sat down naked with his essence still leaking out of her, creating a mess to be cleaned, but rather stared at her fondly.

Again, she didn't notice the warmth shown. She was in another world, one split between the will to live and the will to die; one foot on earth with the living, and one foot in hell, ready to die.

He gave her food she didn't taste but ate like he wished, too numb to deny her body its needs and too gone to think of disobeying. He led her back to the bedroom into the bathroom and bathed her with hands that were gentle and unassuming. He washed her hair without pulling or tugging and once rinsing her off, he combed it for her. Even that act of intimacy was lost on her.

He took her to the bed and she laid down without thinking, automatically raising her arms into the desired position for him to tie her up, face expressionless.

"Sakura."

She turned to him and blinked. His narrowed gaze met hers and she realized he was irritated with her.

Oh. She hadn't responded.

"Yes?" she replied blankly. She didn't really care about what he had to say. She couldn't; feeling anything felt beyond her. She was safe in her cocoon of brokenness, or whatever it was she was feeling, and she wasn't safe anywhere else. She wanted—no, needed—to stay here for the rest of her life.

In the next moment, she was facing the wall opposite him, right cheek on fire. She blinked back reflexive tears. It hurt, a lot. She wasn't even sure what it was for. Should she apologize?

This was too difficult to decipher. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she turned back to him.

He looked angry now. Roughly, he tied her arms back up and left with a parting, "Don't move."

Like she could. She settled in and ignored her discomfort.

Safe here. Not anywhere else.