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Still holding the O-ring to keep her close, Alex slapped her with a hard palm.
“Again,” she whispered.
He struck her again, his eyes sparking with lust and power.
“Again,” she managed in a tear-soaked voice.
Over and over he slapped her, sometimes hitting one cheek several times in succession, then alternating cheeks, never allowing her to anticipate the next blow. Her cheeks were on fire, her ears ringing, the tears streaming freely as she forced the single, hateful word over and over past her lips.
“Again. Again. Again.”
Finally, finally, he let go of her collar. Mara sagged to the ground, dropping her head into her hands as she sobbed. Strong arms lifted her and then scooped her up. Alex carried her back into the house. He moved through the living room and sat on a couch, Mara still sobbing in his arms.
“There, there,” he crooned in a soft voice, cradling her as he’d done so many times before after a particularly savage training session. “You’re all right. I’ll work with you. If I didn’t believe in you, I would let Wallace sell you tomorrow. But I know better. You are still my girl, even though you’ve let me down. I’ll help you to become good, I promise.”
He pulled her into a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head as he gently rocked her in his strong arms. Mara’s sobbing quieted. She didn’t focus on his words, but only on their gentle, soothing tone.
After a time, he stood once more, Mara still in his arms. He walked with her through the living room, turning down a short hallway and entering a windowless space not much bigger than a large closet. He laid her on the thin, narrow mattress that sat on the ground against one wall, covered with a sheet. There was no pillow.
“This is your room, zero.” He pointed toward a bucket and pile of newspaper on the opposite wall. “That’s your bathroom. You will be locked in here when I’m away. Get some rest before our first rehabilitation session. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter 8
Mara squinted in the bright light shining from the open door. “Naptime is over. Up, up, up,” Alex said briskly. She focused on his form, silhouetted against the light behind him as her eyes adjusted.
“I said get up.” Alex strode the three steps it took to reach her and bent down, looping his finger in the O-ring on the front of her collar. He gave it a yank, dragging her from the mattress to the floor.
“Get up on your hands and knees,” he ordered, staring down at her.
As Mara forced herself up, a sudden, sharp cramp shot through her gut. “Oh,” she moaned involuntarily, her hand going to her belly.
“What?” Alex said, taking a step back to regard her. “What is it?”
Mara blew out a breath. “I, I think I have to go to the bathroom,” she said miserably.
“Squat over the bucket and pee. There’s a roll of toilet paper there beside it.”
Mara’s face grew hot as she looked beseechingly at Alex. “Not pee,” she whispered. “I need to use the toilet.”
Alex lifted a brow. “Zeroes don’t use toilets. They squat like dogs.” He pointed to the pile of newspaper beside the bucket. “Spread out a sheet and do your business. Make sure to wrap the mess up in more paper when you’re done. Knock when you’re ready and I’ll let you out.”
Mara remained where she was, frozen in place by his words. “Go on. Be quick about it,” Alex said with obvious impatience. He walked out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him.
Mara rose unsteadily to her feet as her eyes readjusted to the dim glow of the nightlight set into an electrical socket by the door. She stared at the stacked newspaper and shook her head. No. I refuse.
Her mind shifted from her bowels to her painfully full bladder. At least she would pee. The issue became suddenly urgent as a drop of urine escaped and rolled down her inner thigh. Moving in a kind of cross-legged dance to keep from peeing on the floor, Mara hurried to the bucket. Straddling it, she squatted and released her bladder. The urine splashed noisily against the hard plastic as she sighed with relief.
She wiped herself with a few sheets of toilet paper and dropped it into the bucket. As she stood upright, another cramp twisted through her gut like a knife. Mara groaned, pressing a hand against the pain. Damn.
Moving quickly, she grabbed a section of the newspaper and spread it on the floor near the bucket. Squatting, she tried to let her cramping bowels relax enough to release. Nothing happened for several long seconds and she sighed with relief. She would be able to hold it after all. That was good.
As she started to rise, another wave of pain engulfed her and she crouched quickly back into position. She closed her eyes, humiliated and furious. When she was done, she wiped herself with the toilet paper, lots of it. She spread another sheet of newspaper over the mess and rolled it all into as neat a package as she could manage, trying to keep down her gorge as she worked, not wanting to add vomit to the stink permeating the small space.
