Death of the hero

“Not yet, eh?” He asked. She thought she heard a smirk in his voice, but remained to look forward. “Don’t worry. This won’t be by f***e. When it happens you’ll have wanted it. And when that time comes around, you won’t ever want to say no again.” She heard him walk back the way he came in. She assumed he was leaving, but instead she heard chains rattling and felt herself lowering towards the floor. First, her feet touched down fully, but she had been hanging long enough that they didn’t want to support her. They numbly tried to find footing, but as she continued to lower they sprawled behind her until she was resting on her knees. The chain above her stopped moving. She heard some slight shuffling and the chain binding her feet tightened, eliminating the slack that would allow her to stand later. Then the footsteps returned. But he didn’t stop beside her this time, he positioned himself directly in front of her. For the first time, she got to see her captor. She estimated his height to be slightly taller than her, with maybe 50 pounds on her weight-wise. She could probably take him in a straight fight, but she knew that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. He was dressed in a more casual type suit. Jacket and button down, slacks, but no tie. His shoes were clean and shined so despite the slightly casual nature he did go to lengths to create his look. He removed his jacket and threw it back at the wall behind her. He rolled up his sleeves all the while staring down at her. She expected maybe to be hit; beat into submission, but all he did was unzip his pants and pull his cock out through the zipper hole. Then he stood and he waited.