to piss him off. I slowly move into a submissive position, watching him cautiously. But his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on my ass and probably admiring the bright red mark he left.
“Nice of you to wake up.” He finally gives me a clue as to what I did wrong. His tone is playful and it eases a small part of me, but I can’t forget. This is an illusion and a game to him. I can’t relax; I need to keep my guard up. I pull at the hem of the nightgown I'm wearing. It’s the longest one I found in the dresser, but it still shows far too much of my ass.
My eyes home in on the clock on the nightstand, but I can’t see the time. I vaguely remember smacking that annoying fucker when the alarm woke me up earlier. My heart sinks, and my stomach drops with fear. Day one, and already I've fucked this up. I didn’t fucking know, although I should have.
“What do you have to say for yourself?” he asks with a heated stare.
I’m fucking exhausted because a psycho took me from my home and said psycho happens to get up earlier than I do. Add that to the list of things that make you a prick.
I clear my throat as softly as possible and decide to apologize. I can't risk getting in even more trouble right now. I can’t go back to the cell. I remember how nice he was last night, I just need to appeal to that side of him. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t realize.”
“You’re supposed to be presentable for me.” His voice is stern.
I keep my eyes on his as my breathing picks up. He's right, I should've known that. It’s not like I thought I could sleep in and lounge around all day.
“I wasn’t sure when you’d be here,” I say as softly as my voice allows.
“You should always be ready.” He walks to the nightstand and picks up the clock, holding it out for me to see. “But this should give you a pretty good fucking clue as to when I’ll be here.”
A yawn creeps up on me and I really do try to hold it in. But I can't stop myself, and I literally let out a huge yawn as he's reprimanding me. I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”
“You didn’t what?” he asks with a hard edge. His eyes narrow as he sets the clock down with more grace and care than is needed. I can tell he’s trying to hold in his anger. A darkness I haven’t seen yet gathers around him. Fuck, this isn’t good.
“I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Fear heats my blood as I scoot backward on the bed. “I didn’t mean to yawn. It just slipped out, and I didn’t know about the time.”
“You seem to have relaxed a little too much, kitten. Did you forget who you are?” he asks. His words send chills down my spine and strike fear into my heart.
I don’t know how to respond; my mouth opens, but words don’t come out. I don’t know what he wants me to say. He puts his knee on the bed and reaches out, grabbing my ankle and dragging me across the bed. The nightgown travels up my body and I desperately try to keep it down. But I don’t struggle against his hold, and I don’t fight him. I let him drag me over to him.
“Mine. That’s who you are. You. Are. Mine.” His anger wanes as I look back at him. He commands me in a calmer tone. “Say it.”
I hold his gaze and answer quickly. “Yours. I’m yours.” His chest rises and falls with his steadying breath. My pussy clenches as I see how my words have tamed him somewhat. I love the power I have over him, but I’m not a fool, and this isn’t right. It’s wrong. What I feel for him, this entire situation--it’s all wrong.
He’s still trying to calm himself down and I know I need to say something to make him less angry with me. “I will be pres--present--” I try to tell him I’ll be ready for him at all times. But I stumble over the words. Although he hasn't hit me, I’m scared to death he will. Or worse, that he’ll throw me back into the cell and leave me there.
“Shh.” His hand cups my chin