could do to survive. They can all fuck off. I don’t deserve this shit. I’m not a mouse or a rat.
I picture that sexy smirk and hear the man keeping me here call me kitten. It sends a shiver down my spine. I’m not his fucking kitten either. Even if I do think that pet name is sexy as hell, and it makes my pussy clench.
I walk to the chair and imagine smashing it against his head when that fucker gets back in here. I don’t know the code to unlock the door though. I'd have to be on the other side of the room to get a good view of him punching in the keys. Even then, I doubt I’d be able to make them out; it’s too fucking dark. I need to get the fuck out of this room, and I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do that unless he physically lets me.
I know pleading with him to let me go would be of no use, but maybe I can beg him to let me out of this room and into another. One without a fucking lock. I need to be smart about this. I grip the back of the chair wanting so desperately to just beat the shit out of him, but I can’t. First of all, I’m weak as shit. Second, no matter how much I don’t like it, I’m stuck here until he decides to let me out.
My body tenses as the door opens. I watch as he walks into the room with a plate balanced in his hands. Anger heats my blood. This is a game to him. He thinks he can play with me. He stops as the door clicks shut behind him and he stares at me. I try to school my expression to neutral, so I don't reveal how I'm really feeling. But then I see his expression, and he looks pleased. He’s happy that I’m angry. I release my grip on the chair and take a step back before I give in to the urge to pick it up and throw it at him.
“You look upset, kitten.”
My nostrils flare. I decide to settle on the truth. “I am.” I keep my hands straight so I don’t ball them into fists. It won't do me any good to fight a man like him head on. I need to save my energy for when I'll have to fight him off, since I'm sure that's coming. I should also be adopting a more submissive tone considering I’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s the only way I can get out of here. But I’m holding on to my anger. It’s better than giving into the hopelessness of the situation.
“With me?” He tsks and shakes his head as he takes slow and deliberate steps toward me. I take another step back as he sets the plate down on the chair. “Don’t be angry with me, kitten. I--”
“Stop calling me that!” I scream at him, hating how he’s talking to me. Like he’s placating a disobedient child.
His shoulders stiffen, and the soft angles of his face harden with anger. “Now now, you shouldn’t speak to me that way. You’re a smart girl, so you should know better.” His tone is soothing, like he's trying to appease me, but it's right on the edge of taunting me with condescension.
“What do you want from me?” I ask with a choked voice. I want to get this part over with. That’s really what I need to find out. I want to know what I have to do to get the fuck out of this room.
“I want you to submit to me,” he answers simply.
“Fine.” I whisper the word. I need to play along in order to get the fuck out of here. I relax my shoulders, trying to channel a softer side of me.
He tilts his head and echoes, “Fine?” A low chuckle rises in his chest, and I have to keep my eyes wide open and my lips slammed shut to avoid showing how much it turns me on. What the fuck is wrong with me? My breathing picks up and I take another step back, not trusting him or my reactions.
“Alright, then...kitten.” He stares at me, waiting for a response to his pet name for me. I don’t give him one. Instead I hold my tongue and push down my pride. “Come over here and get down on your knees.”
My