"I won't kill you or give you anything more than you can stand, if you behave.  There will be pain. Some of it you will probably find that you enjoy, as odd as it may seem to your mundane mind. Some you will beg for more of. Some you will beg for me to stop causing."  He knew that he was weakening toward her, he often did with beautiful women.  It didn't mean that he would let her go but it was likely that he would take it a bit easier on her.<br/><br/>"You're doing very well, Cherie," he said softly as the bristles made her ebony hair gleam in the light.   He wondered what she was thinking of, was it escape? That would be the most foolish thought that crossed her mind.<br/><br/>He stepped back and saw her tongue move out to her bloody lip.  He knew that she was thirsty and he'd promised.  Henri Dubois might be a lot of things but he was always true to his word.  He retrieved the bottle of chilled water, twisted off the plastic cap and looked at her carefully.  He gently touched the cold surface of the bottle to her swollen lip and peered at her. "Don't wince, you'll spill your water.  Just let it help."  He smiled at her and then moved the mouth of the bottle toward her lips.  "Careful now. Let me pour it in and then you can drink when it won't pour all over you."  He tipped the bottle toward her lips, lifting her head up gently.<br/><br/>The way that her head hung forward gave him some hope. She was starting to break, starting to become defeated.  He didn't want to break her completely, he didn’t think…but if he did…then he could rebuild her into the perfect woman.  "Drink carefully, chérie."<br/>