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I sob dryly. Blood drips down my chin in place of drool.
I shuffle my useless body forward one inch at a time, rice digging into my forearms and chest and stomach, digging into the flesh of my cock between each metal bar of my cock cage, digging into my thighs and shins and toes.
More boots. More hands. More pain.
Twist, twist, twist.
The water is… so far away.
I blink myself into awareness, my body slack and sprawled out on the cold dungeon floor. Rice is stuck to my skin. Dried blood is smeared everywhere. Dried cum too.
My heart thunders in my chest when I see what’s right beside me.
The water.
They left the water.
It’s a trick, a voice whispers in my head. Don’t fall for it.
But I’m so fucking thirsty.
It won’t be worth it.
But… I think I’m dying. If I don’t drink, I’ll die.
If Master wants you dead, then that’s what you should do.
I drag my eyes away from the glass, focusing them on the spot right beside it. There’s a dip in the concrete. A nick of sorts. Barely noticeable, really. But I stare at it. And stare at it. And stare at it. Because it makes it easier when I can’t see the water. When I can pretend it’s not there.
I’m so tired.
I wonder if they’ll let me die soon.
The sound of ice softly clinking against glass wakes me. It takes a few tries for me to open my eyes, my eyelids like sandpaper every time I attempt to move them. When my vision is finally clear, I see what woke me.
A tall glass of ice water. So. Much. Ice. It's still crackling, fresh from the freezer, but the water must be very cold already because the cubes aren't melting.
I whimper.
I look up to find my master squatting on the opposite side of the glass, peering down at me. He looks kind. Compassionate.
I don’t deserve him.
Remembering I shouldn’t be looking at him, I quickly drop my gaze back to the water. His shoes are on either side of it. There’s something smudged on the toe of one. I hope he asks me to lick it clean for him. It’d be such a great way to show him that I’ve learned my lesson. To show him how happy I am to be his.
“Yeux, esclave.”
I immediately give him what he requested, lifting my eyes to meet his. He’s not smiling anymore. My stomach twists. What did I do? How do I fix it?
"My men told me they've been trying to give you water,” he says in English, lifting an unimpressed eyebrow.
No. No, that's not true. They haven't tried to give me anything, Master. Just placed it nearby. I know better. I've learned, Master. Can't you see that I've learned? I was so good. They put the water so close, but I didn't drink it! I didn't even touch it!
"It's pretty fucking rude to not only waste my men's time, but also a valuable resource. Do you know how many slaves would kill to get their hands on water? Hundreds around the world, I'm sure. Thousands even. And here you are, you rude little spoiled brat, sticking your nose up at my gift."
I make a soft, strangled sound of disagreement, but I don't talk. I haven't been given permission. All I can do is stare at him and pray he can understand my expression.
Please. Please, I'm nothing. I'm not smart enough to play this game with you, Master. Please, I'll do anything, just give me the water. Please.
