“I want you to undress out here. I need to take a look at you.” I nod my head at his words. Obviously that’s what he wanted. He’s already made me cum and seen my naughty bits, so this isn’t that far of a stretch. But it feels dirty somehow. I guess in a way it's more intimate. I pull the straps off my shoulders and let the thin nightgown fall into a heap around my feet.
Naturally I want to cover myself, but I don’t. I’ve read enough dark romance to know better. A submissive doesn’t hide her body from her dom.
Anthony’s quiet. He doesn’t move to touch me, and he doesn’t say anything at all. I find myself growing more anxious the longer he stays silent. What if he doesn’t find me attractive? What if he changes his mind? I close my eyes and try to breathe easy, but I can’t.
I’m not skinny, but I wouldn’t say I’m overweight either. I’ve got a pear shape and the cellulite on my ass to go with it. My breasts are small, but perky. I think I could be cute if I wasn’t so fucking pale. His eyes don’t give anything away. I wish he’d just say something already.
Before I can go into a full panic attack, he reaches out and places his hand on the dip in my waist. He crouches low and puts his face just inches above my pelvis. His fingers trace over a small scar on my hip.
“Where did this come from?” he asks.
I look down at the shiny white scar. It’s hardly noticeable. I’ve had it most of my life and I’ve never thought twice about it. “When I was younger, I hit something I guess, or fell.” I swallow thickly and say, “I don’t remember.”
He nods his head and walks around my body, looking over every inch. I feel like he’s evaluating whether or not he’s going to keep me, and I’m terrified he’ll find me lacking.
From behind me, I feel his hands gently rest on my hips, and I close my eyes as I feel his hot breath on my shoulder. I gently tilt my neck, expecting him to kiss me there, but he doesn’t. In an instant he’s gone, and I’m left standing awkwardly as he completes the circle and stands in front of me as though it didn’t happen.
For a moment I wonder if he even touched me at all. Maybe I imagined it.
I clear my throat after a moment of silence, but he speaks before I can and says, “You’re beautiful. Every inch of you.” I look up at him with surprise and wonder. He sounds so sincere. I can’t help but believe he really does find me beautiful.
“You’re dirty though. Let me clean you.” I back away out of instinct as he walks around me toward the shower. My breathing picks up, and I can’t hide the fact that I don’t want this. I don’t want his hands roaming my body for a mix of reasons. He’s fucking good at this game, and there’s a small piece of me that I know would cave at his touch. I don’t trust him. I don’t want him to take care of me.
“Would you rather I give you space, kitten?” he asks.
I can’t hide my shock. I can hardly believe that he would leave me alone in this room. That’s a lot of trust for him to extend to me. I could easily break the glass and use a piece as a weapon. Either on myself or him. As if reading my mind, he cocks a brow.
“You aren’t going to make me regret that, are you? You’ve been so good today. I’d hate for you to upset me just before bedtime.” There’s a dark threat in his voice, and I’m quick to shake my head and alleviate any worries he has.
“I didn’t think you would. You’re smarter than that,” he says.
“Yes, Anthony.” My response earns me a warm smile, and I hate that it eases the apprehension in me, but it does.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour; you’ll need to be done by then.”
“I’m not very hungry.” I speak just above a murmur and stare at the beautiful marble floor. The silence he gives me in return compels me to look at him. He gives me a tight smile.
“I understand not having an appetite, but you need to eat, kitten.” He takes a step back and looks into my eyes. I try to break eye contact, but I can’t. The intensity of his gaze has me pinned.
“Tomorrow will be different; you know that, don’t you?” he asks with an even voice.
Tomorrow I’m his, and I'll have expectations to meet. I know. I know what this is. Regret overwhelms me. I’ve read this story so many times. Girl gets taken and held against her will. But this is no story. It’s not something I can edit and critique. What's happening right now isn't the same as words on a page that can be changed on a whim.
“It’s going to be good, kitten.” His calm tone eases the stress threatening to consume me. He grips my chin in between his thumb and forefinger. He leans down with his lips close to mine, but he doesn’t let them touch. My body ignites from the proximity of our bodies--mine naked, and his fully clothed. He holds such power over me, yet his touch is gentle. I almost lean into him, expecting him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He whispers, “You’re going to love this kitten; I promise you.”
I close my eyes, waiting for him to kiss me, but instead he drops his hand and turns to leave me. “Sleep well, kitten,” he says as he opens the double doors and leaves me alone.
I watch the doors shut as his body leaves my view. The loud click fills the bathroom and I finally wrap my arms around my body. I feel stunned. Confused. And scared. More than anything, I feel lost.
I turn the water on and let the steam fill the room before I finally get into the shower. The heat feels like absolute heaven on my sore shoulders. I stand under the stream, letting the water hit me as I absorb everything. It takes a long while for me to reach for the soap and and wash the grime of the cell away. When my fingers travel lower, the anger comes along with bitter disappointment. I let him touch me.
I scrub my body harder and turn up the heat. The reality of the situation makes my breathing become ragged.
I close my eyes as the tears leak out and lean my body against the cool tiled wall. I slowly slide down until I’m on my ass and holding my knees to my chest.
I don’t know how I’ll ever get out of here. But I will.
Part of me thinks I should be grateful. The fucking psycho who took me is at least giving me space and letting me stay in a beautiful prison. It could be worse. But it’s still a prison. And I don’t deserve this. It’s better than death. I can’t deny that. I’m safe for now. Or at least I’ve been given the impression of safety.
I’ll obey him to save myself from punishment, but I can’t forget what's really going on here.
I can’t let him break me. I can’t let him win.
The first chance I’m given, I’m running and never looking back.
It takes me an hour before I finally go back to the bedroom.
I stop in my tracks when I see a tray on the end of the bed. I walk closer to it with disbelief. Sitting on the tray is a sage green teacup with the corresponding saucer on top to keep the heat in. And next to it are two melatonin pills.
I reach down and slowly move the saucer; the steam spills out beautifully from the freshly steeped chamomile tea.
He was watching. I already knew that though. I knew he would be watching me.
I’ve read countless books where the heroine is taken and forced to submit. I pick the teacup up and put it to my lips. I close my eyes as I take a sip and sit down on the bed. I look around the bedroom, the one he designed with me in mind, and think back to all those dark romances.