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As if he’d heard my wailed thought he answered, "Obviously the Bonding process knocked loose some previously latent talent. Good! That makes you all the more valuable. Over-control…” he pondered a moment. “I like that term. Very descriptive.”

“So, spill it. How long am I trapped into serving you for?”
–And how?- I though, staring at him with frightened eyes. “And why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“You are mine until or unless I decide otherwise,” his eyes stared back, smugly into mine. “As to why…” an expression, part sneer, part smile split his face. “Merely because I wanted you. I have been watching you for a long time, almost as long as you have been wearily watching us, but it was I you struck. It was I whom you chose to challenge and I,” he cupped my chin, then his hand flowed on to caress my cheek before he continued, “Accepted with pleasure.”

I buried my head in my hands and flatly refused to cry. – At least he isn’t asinine enough to tell me to relax or something.- I thought

“You IDIOT! Damn it! I apologized didn’t I? It’s not like it was deliberate!! Don’t even think of telling me to relax! After all, you haven’t just lived through nightmare material come to life! … Or had someone completely screw with your head, found a strange man sharing your bed and been informed that you’re now his slave forever more after he’s finished doing something to you that almost killed you! If it’s all the same to you I think I’m due for a nice bout of histrionic, hysteric screaming come crying fits! No one in his or her right mind could possibly be expected to cope with this. No wonder so many of the Bond girls are walking zombies! This reality SUCKS!” I stopped to pant a bit. I felt kind of sick to my stomach. I felt a little better for that out burst but not much.
Anyway, as cowardly an option as I found it, if I really couldn’t handle this situation (and I meant REALLY, as in beyond all hope and endurance) there was always suicide…