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He strolls back and looks down at me, staring into my face as if drinking in the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. It’s so unexpectedly sweet and tender that I want to weep. When he leans in and captures my chin in his hand, I part my lips to accept the most sensual kiss in my life. It’s as if he’s flipped a switch that’s wired straight to my pussy. As his tongue slowly swirls around mine, he firmly holds my chin in place and probes the inner recesses of my mouth. He swallows my moan of pleasure, then pulls away, very slowly. When he looks down at me, it’s with what appears to be genuine affection.
Something in his face shifts, and as his eyes tenderly caress my face, I feel the air around us warming, and my heart squeezes in my chest.
Please care about me.
But his next words shatter the illusion.
“You’re still thinking of escape, but there is none. Ever. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be for you. My willingness to keep you here is the only reason you’re alive. You should understand and appreciate that.”
The sensual daze evaporates, replaced by deep sorrow. He looks at me expectantly, so I murmur, “Yes, Master,” with a sullen undertone I can’t conceal.
“Here are the answers to your questions. I have closed off certain areas of the house where I don’t want you to go. If you can open a door to a room, you’re allowed in. Are the doors that lead out of this house locked? I’m not going to tell you. Just keep this in mind: Do whatever the fuck you want, go wherever you want, but if you attempt to escape, or harm me or Elizabeth, you will fail, and I will punish you accordingly.” Then he reaches out and strokes my face, but after his cruel words, it gives me no pleasure. “I know you’re going to try. My dear little slave. I do love a challenge.”
I stare at him frostily.I’m not your slave. I’ll never be your slave.
“That’s what you think,” he says, and he laughs as my eyes fly wide with alarm.
He keeps doing that. Answering me when I haven’t said anything.Canhe read my mind?
No, of course not. He’s just really, really good at reading people’s expressions. I’ll have to control the look on my face whenever he’s watching me.
“Stand there for just a minute,” he says. I do, staring straight ahead; the thick collar prevents me from looking down.
He returns in a brief moment, with a leash. I stare at it in horror as he clips it to the ring on my collar.
“Follow me,” he says.
He turns and walks away, tugging the leash, and I shuffle as fast as I can, taking frantic little steps in a desperate attempt to keep up with him. I’m so bruised that every step I take is painful. I stumble several times, and I’m crying quietly with frustration.
He leads me down a hallway and points at a large door. There’s no visible lock on it. All I see is a doorknob, and a decorative plaque that looks like a lion’s head.
“That’s the front door,” he says. Then he reaches out and runs a thumb along my cheek, dragging it through the tracks of my tears. He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it slowly.
The kind, sensual Joshua who surfaced a few minutes ago has vanished, replaced by the abusive monster who thinks he’s my master.
“Question?” he asks with a smile. “I’m in an exceptionally generous mood this morning.”
I glance at the door in misery. “Why would you show me the front door when you just know it will hurt me, Master?”
He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I’m a sadist, Tamara. I enjoy the pain of others. More than enjoy it—I need it. It nourishes me. It’s so important for you to remember that. Looking at this door will help you to remember that, so you’ll know better than to challenge me and give me an excuse for real punishment. This is me helping you. You may thank me.”
His twisted logic makes me queasy. “Thank you, Master.” My face flushes with anger as I say it, and I don’t try to hide the hatred blazing in my eyes. His smile is cold and evil as he unclips the leash and walks away.
I’m trembling with humiliation and rage, and I hug myself, standing perfectly still until he disappears around a corner. I hear his footsteps going down a hall, then a door closes.
I’ll find a way to fucking get out of here, or die trying.
I start exploring the house, hobbling resentfully down the hallway.
The collar is a maddening, constant presence on my throat. I reach up and move it around, trying to adjust it, but nothing makes it comfortable. My strides are cut in half by the chain, and I almost trip numerous times as I limp down the hallway. My bruises still throb with every step.
Miserable, I try to tell myself at least to be grateful that I’m not locked in my cell all day.
First, I open a bunch of doorways until I find the kitchen. I walk around casually, sneaking glances at drawers and trying to figure out where the knives might be.
Knives and fire. Those could be useful tools. I’d just have to figure out how to get hold of them without anybody noticing, and I’m sure that will be damn near impossible.
I hear footsteps thudding into the room. Elizabeth comes and stands in the kitchen and glares at me, her eyes black with hatred. Did Joshua send her to watch me? Seems like cheating on his part. That’s disappointing.
