She thinks she knows everything, and I’ve been pushing her to find her boundaries. To find that breaking point where she’ll realize she isn’t getting what she wants. So far, she’s wanted to obey me. And every command she’s met head-on. The perfect slave.

I knew at some point she’d break. I knew I’d ask too much of her. I imagined it would be something much more than simply not telling me that she’s deliberately disobeying me.  She’s always had a problem expressing herself though, so I shouldn’t be as shocked as I am.  

I can read her so easily. I know she was disappointed. But this relationship isn’t me being available to her. It’s her being available to me. I’m restless in the leather armchair in the living room, her laptop on my knees as I read through the scene she’s been writing. I’ve given her permission to write every day. When she feels the inspiration, she can do so.  I huff a humorless laugh. I’ve given her permission to do whatever the fuck she’d like when my dick isn’t in her.  Maybe that was my first mistake. It’s my fault she’s in the cage.

I take a small sip of the whiskey before sitting the glass back down on the end table.

I scroll through her scene, reading about the collar the hero has given the heroine. She’s romanticized everything. Her perception of what this lifestyle is, is missing an important aspect. The one where I have control.

This is why I didn’t want a Submissive. My fingers tap on the short glass in my hand before bringing it to my lips again. I didn’t anticipate that the boundary that would send her to the cage would be refusing to tell me the truth.

I thought better of her than that. Of everything I’ve asked her to do, that seems to be the least difficult. But maybe she doesn’t want to believe it herself.

My eyes read over the next scene she’s written, the hero of her book taking the virginity of the heroine. It’s not difficult to see that it was inspired by how I took her. This hero kisses her sweetly, talks to her gently. He makes love to her.

This man is nothing like me. The stark contrast reminds me of where I came from.

I remember the first time I saw my father kiss my mother.  She was always quiet.  Always in the background and never allowed to be around us.  I didn’t quite understand it.  She wasn’t allowed to interfere, that’s what my father told us.  

She approached him, her eyes wide with worry as she talked in quiet whispers, pleading with him for something.  Her eyes kept darting toward us as we sat on the floor of the living room, cleaning the guns.  

My father was rough with her. I watched as he grabbed the back of her hair so tightly he ripped some out. He kissed her hard on the lips, smearing her lipstick across her face before throwing her down on the ground.  I remember how I jumped up, how my heart raced in my chest.  I knew how hard my father hit, all too well.  She landed hard, wincing with pain as she braced herself.  But the look on her face changed when she saw me watching, slowly walking toward them.  She shook her head, her eyes warning me to stay away.  

That was what we had as an example. It sickened me. I loved my mother, and I couldn’t watch as my father hit her. Day in and day out, she became an outlet for his anger. As my mother whimpered on the floor, I looked back to my brother. Wanting to make sure he was all right. We were only children. But the look in his eyes sickened me. It still does.  The smile on his face showed what kind of a man he would be. If you can even call that a man.

That’s the day I realized that my father was a sick fuck, and the cold dark look was echoed in my brother’s eyes.

I down the whiskey and close the laptop at the unpleasant memory, setting it on the ottoman and rising from my seat. I ignore the fact that I feel like an asshole. I’m fully aware that she’s under a different impression of what this is. She shouldn’t be. It’s my fault, and I need to fix this.

I look at the clock and see it’s been an hour.  The time has passed by slowly; tick-tock, tick-tock. I wanted to go to her every minute that she’s been in there, but she needs to learn she can’t top from the bottom. I’m the one with control, and she won’t force my hand to get what she wants.

All the punishment she’s received up to this moment has been for conditioning. The punishment was to help her learn how to please me. Although there’s pain, it’s always been accompanied by far more pleasure. She takes a simple punishment, and then she’s rewarded for accepting it.

Not this time.

Hopefully this will be the last time. But I doubt it will be. There is a ferocity in her. A strength that she doesn’t recognize. She may not know how courageous she is, but when most people see me, they cower. She was drawn to my power. That in and of itself shows courage.

My blood rushes in my ears, and my body heats as I move to her room. I open the door slowly, peeking in to see her curled in a ball on the floor of the cage. The cage itself is large enough for her to stand. I imagined her in the corner with her knees tucked under her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs.

And that’s just how she is.  

She peeks up over her knees as I close the door.  

Her eyes are red-rimmed.  She’s been crying.  Seeing her like this hurts me.

“Are you ready to behave?” I ask her, slowly walking toward the corner of the room.  The cage door is slightly ajar; I didn’t lock it, but I know she didn’t leave it.  It’s not in her nature.  

She can leave if she wants.  At any time, she could go and break the contract.  But she doesn’t truly want to leave.  She wants to fight me; she wants me to earn her submission.

And I fucking love the challenge.  

This part of it though, I’m not sure I want to do again.  I’d rather fuck her into submission.  

I crouch in front of the cage, opening the door all the way.  She watches me with wide eyes.  When the door creaks open, her body stiffens as she says, “I didn’t unlock it.” I stare back at her as she continues, her voice soft. “I think you forgot to lock it, Sir.”

“Did you leave?” I ask as I sit on the floor with my legs crossed. I already know she didn’t. She shakes her head and whispers, “No.”

“I didn’t forget anything, my flower.” I pat my lap, waiting for her to crawl out to me. “I’ll never lock you in here. It’s in our contract.”

She seems hesitant for a moment, her movements stuttering.

“You did read what you signed, didn’t you?” My voice comes out playful. I know she read every word more than once. I know she takes it seriously. Her lips show the trace of a smile, but it quickly disappears as she wipes away the tears under her eyes.

“Yes, Sir,” she answers beneath her breath as she crawls out. She doesn’t hesitate to come to me, nestling herself in my lap and resting her cheek against my chest. I comfort her, rubbing her back with firm strokes.

“You know I had to punish you, don’t you?” I ask her.

She nods her head against my chest as her fingers intertwine nervously. “I do.” She clears her throat and says, “I’m sorry, Sir, I shouldn’t have lied to you. I shouldn’t have tried to push you.”

I kiss her hair, petting her as she apologizes. I hate this. It’s something I knew that was going to happen, but I didn’t expect my reaction. Or hers.

“I-” I clear my throat and shuffle her in my lap. I don’t mind that she came to me. I’m dealing with my fuckface of a brother. He wants the money back. The money they planted on me to set me up. He’s trying to get me back under the familia’s thumb. It’s not going to happen. “I will attend to you when I can. But sometimes you have to wait.”

Lilly nods her head diligently.

I hook my finger under her chin, and look her in the eyes as I tell her, “Trust me, I would have much rather been spending time with you.”

I kiss her, the taste of her tears touching the tip of my tongue as she gives into me, parting her lips.  Her eyes are still glassed over with unshed tears. I brush my thumb along her cheek, and kiss her again. I say the only words I know that will make her smile again.

I brush my nose against hers and say, “I think you need to be punished, my flower.”

* * *

I knot the rope at her wrists, tying them tighter.  Her lips part, gifting me that beautiful sound.

Testing the give of the rope, I pull slightly, her small body falling forward.  She’s on her ass on the floor.  Naked and waiting for me to command her.  

I’m running out of these stupid rules.  It’s not about training her anymore, it’s about pushing her limits and simply enjoying each other’s touch.  

I pull her closer to me, her arms bending as my lips brush against hers.  My heart seems to slow when I open my eyes and find her pale blue gaze shining back at me.  There’s a look there I should fear.  Something that tells me I should end this.  But I don’t want to.  I refuse to.