I never understood how someone could be physically compelled by what they morally despise. I've spent my life training to resist any form of manipulation, yet being held captive by my enemy has revealed vulnerabilities I didn't know I possessed. My body betrays me when he touches me, my pussy wettening against my will at the proximity of the man who destroyed everything I loved. The shame of my own physical responses haunts me more than any imprisonment. How can my nipples harden under the gaze of my family's murderer? Why does my breath catch when his fingers trace my skin? This war within my own body is a battle I wasn't prepared to fight.