laptop.
“I need to work.” I speak without thinking. His eyes narrow and I reword my plea. “I’m really far behind. Please, Anthony.” I sound so pathetic and weak. I hate it. I’m so fucking weak.
“You can download the books and write your articles without going online,” he answers, and he’s partly right, but he’s fucking wrong, too. I have to be available. That’s why I’m so successful. I respond immediately. If they need something done, I get it done that fucking second. Yesterday took a toll on my work already. I’m going to have to bust ass to get it back up. And his internet is so god damned slow that everything is taking longer than it should.
“You don’t understand, I have to be available,” I say.
“You want to be able to go online without being monitored?” he asks.
I nod my head even as I realize how ridiculous my request is. But he said he’d give me my life back. And this is my life. It’s my passion.
“Alright, kitten,” he says as though it’s perfectly normal. As though there’s no harm whatsoever in allowing me to do this without him here. I remember the ping from his earlier text. But that had to have been a coincidence.
Hope rises in my chest. Maybe I can get the fuck out of here after all. I don’t need him fucking with my emotions and manipulating me into fucking begging him like he just did. He hands me back the computer and I take it as gently as possible to hide my intentions. I’m going to escape. I just need to figure out how.
Anthony
I have shit to do, but I’m waiting. I know she’s going to push. Especially after leaving her all hot and panting for my touch like I did. I walk about five steps away from her door and lean against the wall. If I’ve learned anything about my sweet little pet, it’s that she acts on impulse. And right now, she’s not too happy with me. But she needs to learn that she’s not always going to get what she wants. I readjust my erection and think back to how she writhed under me. She fucking wanted me. But she didn’t beg. And I had to get the fuck off of her before I broke my word.
I log on to my phone that’s now on silent and go through the alerts. There’s a logger on her computer and I set up a script to monitor what she’s doing. Even shit that she types, but doesn’t send. Titles of books or authors that could trigger clues. Words and phrases or certain sites that she’d think of going on. There’s also a feed. I can watch everything she’s doing as she’s doing it. And I can veto it, too. I go through the list of triggers again. Three triggers--Comfort Food, “help me, please”, and “taken.” The last two triggers seem harmless enough in context, but that first one? I know what my kitten was up to. I thought about going over and busting her ass. But I’m gonna wait until she makes a clear offense. Something she can’t deny is wrong.
I lean my head against the wall realizing what that means. I don’t want her back in the cell. But she’s going back. I’d bet my life on it. And that fucking sucks. I was hoping we’d make more progress; I was sure we would, but I was wrong.
Ping. Another notification pops up and I’m quick to hit--blackout. My kitten is about to freak the fuck out. I hear her cuss and move around in the room. Her screen just went black, and she sure as fuck knows why. I pocket my phone and punch in the key code to her room. I check my other pocket for the sash and it’s there. Good. I’m gonna need it. I’ve got all sorts of shit I use for work out here in the hall. She doesn’t need to see that and think it’s for her.
I open the door and examine her room. She’s nowhere in sight, and the room is silent.
I close the door behind me quietly. “Kitten,” I call out for her, but she doesn’t respond. Even I have to agree the calm manner I’m calling out with is creepy as fuck. But it’s better that I’m calm. She’s already on edge, and I can’t push her away with my anger. She’s scared, and I don’t need her to turn violent. She would.