She woke up in his room.
Totally disoriented, she looked around, recognizing at last the Vermeer painting on the far wall. He had that painting in his room, she recalled. She wasn’t laying on his bed, however, but on a small pallet on the floor at the foot of his bed. It was comfortable, but…it was at the foot of his fucking bed. On the fucking floor.
She sat up, frowning.
She didn’t remember coming up here or falling asleep. She remembered.
Shit. She remembered her fury, her outpouring of rage. Of…striking him. Maybe he was going to send her home.
That thought made her unaccountably sad. She wasn’t ready to go home. She had signed an agreement, and dammit, she kept her word. Besides, what was there to go home to? Her husband was leaving, taking his shit and going where the hell ever. Her job was in hiatus; she’d arranged everything precisely to be away for 30 days. A vacation, she’d told her friends. To recover from the stress of the breakup of her marriage. They’d nodded, giving hugs and comfort. She needed the space and time to heal, they’d all said.
She rose from the floor, stretching.
She did feel better, as if something inside of her had released and just floated away. There was nothing left for her husband. When she returned home, she’d be free. It was hard to say if she was more sad…or relieved. She shook the thought away, and moved across the room. The door opened as she approached it.
“Ah, you’re awake. Feeling better?”
She looked at him carefully. He didn’t look angry. And he had no apparent scratches or marks on him. Thank god. She nodded.
“Did I hurt you?”
The words popped out of her mouth, unbidden. He looked surprised for a moment, then laughed.
“You never fail to amuse me, little one. Of course you didn’t hurt me. I’m glad you’re up. It’s time for dinner, and I want you to attend me.”
She straightened, looking at him. “Attend”…what the hell did that mean?
He slipped his arm around her shoulder, gave her a tug to get her moving.
“C’mon slut, I’m hungry.”
Unresisting, she let him lead her downstairs to the formal dining room.
Attached to the foremost leg of the table was a leash. Attached to the end of the leash was a very thick leather collar. It had four shiny buckles, and other hardware piled around it. She looked up at him.
He waved his hand towards the pile.
“Let’s suit you up, slut.” When she would have balked, he tugged her by her hair. He pushed her to her knees, then asked her to hand him the collar. She could see silver chains dangling from a D ring in the front, and wondered what all that was about. He put the collar around her throat.
“I”m not a dog!” she protested, putting her hands up.
“No, you are my property for the next three weeks…or have you forgotten already? Property that should be obeying, and not arguing.” He turned and looked away from her for a moment.
“You win. Give me the gag.” He tugged a five-dollar bill from his pocket, and handed it to Reg as the other man passed him a…dildo? It was short and thick and had some kind of web harness around it and..omg…did he say…gag?
“no…no..” But he pressed the short fat rubber dick into her mouth and quickly buckled it around her. Reg took her hands and fastened them behind her back. She was silenced and contained. She threw a glare over her shoulder at the bastard, Reggie.
She rolled her eyes. Her “owner” fastened the collar, unimpeded, around her neck. It held her head up high. She didn’t exactly feel like she was choking, but her movements were strictly limited now. She felt a sharp tug on her nipple.
“Oouu” she grunted around the gag.
There was a quick hard flick against her other nipple.
“There we go, girls,” He almost cooed at her nipples. She couldn’t bend her head to see what the fuck he was…
The pain in her nipple was immediate. Her guttural cry made him glance at her face, and smile. And there was pain in her other nipple. She tossed her head, trying to twist…and felt the immediate tug in her left nipple.
“I see you are understanding the cause and effect here.” His smile was smug. “Are you going to be a good and obedient girl? If not, I’ll serve myself and you will earn a punishment. What do you think? Can you be a good slut for your Master? Wouldn’t it be nice to earn a reward rather than a punishment?”
He looked down at her. She looked up at Him.
She nodded, capitulating.
He smiled. Let the game begin.