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I’ve never been fucked like that in my life and I'm pretty sure I never would be again.
“Get up, clean this shit and attend to your duties. I’ll be waiting for my shower. I don’t want to be there too long or I’ll get my strap and that bruise around your neck won't be the only one that you need to worry about.” He walks out the door, but I can tell he’s a little lighter. More at ease than he’s been. I’m happy that I’m able to do this for him. When I lean back on the floor for a second to catch my breath I know what it is that I’m feeling. Pride.
I’m proud that I’m able to do this for him no matter how simple it might be. I’m good at something and it’s not solely based on my looks or what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m good at it simply because it’s who I am. I can feel it in my bones even though I’ve only been here for a few days.
I know I can’t keep him waiting, so I get up off the floor and clean up the best I can around me. I walk towards the door in the room, but stop when I see a standing mirror in the corner. He’d said I have a bruise around my neck. I can feel it, but I couldn’t see it. I walk over to the glass and I can see the dark red and purple markings around my neck, there are more bruises on my chest and side. His fingers are imprinted on my hips and I swear my knees have bruises on them too. Though I’m not completely sure how I got those bruises.
I tilt my head to the side and flip my hair to the other shoulder. Instead of being appalled by these marks, somehow, they make me feel prettier than I’ve felt in a while. I think I might need to have him mark me up like this more often. I sigh happily and walk out of the room rushing to the other bathroom where I know he takes his morning shower and see him standing there by the glass sliding door. He opens it and steps inside. I rush behind him and take the cloth from the rack and wait for him to turn the water on to what he likes. It’s easy to fall back into simple habits. I know what he likes and I can give it to him.
“Now, you,” he says. My eyebrows go up, usually, he throws me in the shower, but today he is giving me the freedom to do it myself. I take more of his soap and start to wash my own body. I turn and put my head up to the water, but he just grunts and steps out of the shower leaving me inside by myself.
“I want my breakfast on the table in half an hour. It better be fucking perfect.”
“Put those clothes on before you start walking around.”
I turn to see where he’s gesturing and I see a pair of red shorts and a tank top. They don’t look like they’re made for me, but at least I have something I could wear to keep a little covered. I’ve been in a state of either undress or in filthy rags since I’d gotten here.
I walk back out and there is another man in the hallway. He startles me as the last time I saw someone they’d basically tried to get me to flirt with them even though I was naked and in Savage’s home.
“Please ma’am the master of the house will take his breakfast in the main dining area.”
I don’t say anything, just follow the man. Master of the house? Is he a servant? Where does he even stay? How could I have never seen him? How big is this place really? I pass by another huge window and see along with the vines of roses there is a small stable outside. There are fountains and a large plot of land with nothing but huge pine trees. It's like a fucking fairytale out here. I keep up with the man I think is one of the housekeepers and enter into a kitchen I’m sure would be the grand prize on one of the cooking shows I like to watch. It’s probably bigger than my entire apartment. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many appliances and burners in my life.
The housekeeper gives me a small menu and tells me to choose what I would cook for Savage from there. Most of it are things that I’ve never heard of before, but there is an eggs benedict dish I think I might be able to handle. In fact, I’m sure that I’ve done something like this a time or two when I was younger. I make the dish, but the first one I mess up. I toss the error away and continue to make Savage’s food. I plate the meal as nicely as I can and then bring it out to a large dining area. There’s a long table with enough seats for a family of twenty. There are the two men that I’d seen last night, another woman I don’t know, and another man who looks like he could be related to Savage. Is he his brother? There’s so much about this man that I don’t know and I already know that it’d never be my place to ask. I place the food in front of Savage and turn to leave when the blond-haired man that was in the house yesterday reaches out and grabs my ass. I turn around and smack him hard across the face. I won’t be touched by anyone besides Savage.
“Oh, this one has some bite.” He jokes as he rubs the spot on his cheek.
Savage gets up from his chair and stands in front of me—glaring. Is he mad? How can he be mad, because I’m protecting what's his? I thought he’d appreciate it.
“Go into the kitchen. I’ll come see you shortly,” he orders and I do what he says.
I pace back and forth in the large kitchen that all of a sudden feels very small.
About twenty minutes later Savage walks into the kitchen and in his hand is a long silver thick linked chain.
I stand stock-still and wait for what he’s going to do.
“You struck my guest.” He let the chain drop from his hand, but he held on to one end of it.
“Savage, he touched me. He’s not supposed to …”
“It’s my fucking job to put him in his place, not you.” He rubs the thick hair on his chin contemplating, “You know what I think? I believe you struck him to embarrass me …”
I shake my head furiously, “No, I didn’t!”
“That you want me to look like I can’t control my whore in front of my guests …”
“No Savage. No.” I whimper and fall down to my knees.
He squats, so he’s eye level with me. “It’s come to my attention that maybe I’ve been treating you better than I should. Maybe instead of my whore I should be treating you like the bitch you want to be. If that’s how you're going to behave, that’s how you’ll be treated.” He walks over to me and wraps a thick collar around my neck before he takes the other end of what I can see now is a leash and connects it to one of the cemented-down legs of the kitchen island. “You’ll be here until I can trust that you know how to act around other people and understand that it’s my decision whether or not someone is reprimanded for touching my whore.” He reaches over the counter above me and pulls out a metal bowl. Looks like a small mixing bowl. He opens the fridge and dumps shredded chicken in the bowl. “There, that should hold you for a while.” He pats the top of my head and I look away as he sighs in frustration.
“Now, tell me you’re going to be a good whore.” He speaks to me like he would a dog and even though it’s not what I want, I’ll take it.
“I’ll be a good whore, Savage,” I mutter, aggravated with myself that I’d disappointed him.
“Hey, we’re going to be on our way.” Someone’s voice sounds from the doorway. When I look over Savage’s shoulder I see the group of guests that were in the dining room and also the man who had grabbed my ass. He’s leaning heavily against the door. His face is cut up and bloodied with one eye swollen shut.
My eyes quickly jerk to Savage's hands and I notice the dark bruises forming on his knuckles. He did that for me. I don’t want to smile, so I keep my eyes down. My Savage may act like I mean nothing to him, but his claim on me is strong.
