Day ten

She heard his footsteps before she saw him. Ten precise steps. Always the same rhythm.

Her body was already reacting—heart racing, skin prickling with cold anticipation, thighs tightening instinctively. She hated it. Hated him. Hated how she wanted this now—no, not this. Not this. She wanted more. Something real. Something he wouldn’t give.

The door opened.

Kratt entered like a ghost in velvet. Dark suit flawless. Gloves buttoned. Face unreadable.

Lara stood naked in the center of the room, flushed and trembling. She didn’t try to hide herself anymore. There was no point.

He said nothing.

He never did.

“Kratt…” she started, her voice rough from disuse.

Still no answer.

He walked up to her—closer, closer—until she could feel the chill coming off his suit. His hands lifted, fingers grazing her ribs, then her breasts, then down between her thighs with infuriating precision.

She gasped, lips parting. Her body betrayed her again, arching, aching. She hated how fast her breath caught.

“Please,” she whispered.

No response. He was already sliding into her—slow, methodical, perfect as always, and completely detached.

Lara cried out, clinging to his jacket. “Please just kiss me. Just once—Kratt, please…”

Nothing.

He thrust steadily, but his eyes didn’t change. Not even a flicker.

“I’ll do anything,” she whimpered, her nails scraping at his suit. “Just take the gloves off. I want to feel your skin. Just your skin—please.”

His only answer was the same maddening rhythm of his hips. Controlled. Predictable.

“God, please,” she moaned, pressing her forehead to his chest, panting. “I don’t want it like this. I want you. I want real. Why won’t you give me that?”

No sound. No breath. No change.

Lara was sobbing now, her voice cracking. “I can’t take this. I can’t—I feel like I’m going insane! You fuck me like I’m nothing—like I’m some experiment. You look at me like I’m a fucking mirror. Say something!”

Still nothing.

She jerked her hips against him, hard, ****. “Hurt me. Love me. Just fucking touch me like I matter.”

His pace didn’t falter.

She screamed in frustration, her whole body clenching as another orgasm ripped through her—not from pleasure, but from sheer nerve-wracking hunger. She shook violently, clutching at him like she’d fall apart if she didn’t.

“Kiss me,” she whispered again, quieter now. “Please, Kratt. Just… kiss me. Even once.”

He finished. Breathed out.

A simple exhale.

Like he’d finished reviewing a spreadsheet.

Lara slumped in his arms, boneless and soaked in sweat, still sobbing quietly.

Kratt adjusted his gloves.

“Ten days,” she muttered bitterly. “Ten days of this. And you still haven’t touched me.”

“You haven’t earned it,” he said simply.

She laughed—a broken, joyless sound. “You’re not breaking me. You’re hollowing me out.”

Kratt turned for the door.

“You’re wrong,” he said as he reached it. “This is what breaking looks like.”

Then he was gone.

And Lara sank to the floor, not because she was defeated… but because for the first time, she didn’t know what she wanted more:

To feel him or feel something