Alec

After I come in her mouth, I watch her face attentively. I know she hates the taste, so I purposely make her swallow.

She needs to be punished for running from me, for causing me pain, the lengths I’ve had to go to get her back, not to mention the money I’ve spent.

I drag her to the bathroom by her hair afterward, half of it spilling out of her unkempt bun.

She is grateful to pee, but she makes me nervous as she eyeballs the bathroom.

I eye her closely as she sits on the toilet, her face still red from my loss of anger the night before. She hates peeing in front of other people, it makes her anxious. I try to start a conversation to rush her along.

“You can cook me breakfast.” I’m nonchalant. “Then we need to shower. Busy day today.” She turns her face to look at me.

Her eyes search me for clues, for answers. She isn’t getting an answer yet.

After she’s finished in the bathroom, I bring out a pair of handcuffs and show them to her. “The kitchen is stocked. I want some eggs, over easy, and some toast. If you make any attempt to run, I’ll handcuff you to the stove.”

She nods, understanding.

“Get to work.” I’m gruff.

I sit on a bar stool at the kitchen island and watch her. It takes her a minute to locate what she needs—the frying pan, spatula, and all the ingredients.

Before long, she’s at the stove cracking eggs and preparing our meal. She does this with trepidation, tiptoeing around the kitchen in her bare feet, her silky robe coming lose as she keeps adjusting it to cover her body.

“Take it off,” I order. “I’m tired of looking at it.” She removes it without incident, and I throw it over the stool next to me.

She stands by the stove for heat, her naked body shivering.

I scrutinize her every move making sure she’s not messing with the food or trying to harm me. All the sharp kitchen utensils have been removed for safety.

“Butter for your toast?” she asks.

I nod watching her bend over to get the butter out of the fridge.

“How should I spread it?” She’s on the hunt for utensils. I’d already thought of taking ones that had the potential to hurt me out of the kitchen.

“Just like your legs,” I joke. She shoots me a dirty look but wipes it away as soon as she realizes it. “Joking,” I say.

She is confused as she looks for the knives.

“No knives,” I say. “I’ll use a fork.”

She sits down beside me, and we eat in silence. The only sound is the clink of our silverware.

Her appetite shows, and she is famished. She even licks her fingers when she’s done.

When I’m finished, I hand her my plate. “You can do the dishes.”

She gets up without complaint. I’m starting to enjoy this exchange—me telling her what to do and her complying. Why hadn’t I tied her up and demanded her loyalty six months ago?

There is silence minus the running water as she rinses the dishes. She’s flustered as she drops a glass on the floor. It is plastic and bounces.

I give her an amused glance. This is a new look for her. I kind of like it, this uncertainty.

I’ve got the power. She’s helpless, and it’s sexy and irritating at the same time. The control I have, the way I can dominate her, turns me on and instantly, my cock hardens.

It’s frustrating because there’s not a shred of the hard-headed, stubborn Levin.

She has to bend down to get it, and I see her dilemma on her face. She is naked, and her ass will be sticking straight up in the air. Once that was natural.

I let out a frustrated sigh.

My tone’s annoyed. “Pick it up.”

She leans over, timid, and struggles to grasp it with her soapy hands.

As she straightens up, I come up behind and grab her ass. She jumps as I squeeze it.

“We need to get in the shower. Big day for us.” At the mention of this, her eyebrows shoot up as she turns to examine me. She’s confused and scared. This is the reaction I want.

The bewildered look gives way to one of complacency. “Are you going to keep me in suspense or tell me?” Her nails are drumming on the kitchen island fidgeting impatiently.

I ponder the question for a moment.

Maybe I could tell her my idea. If she didn’t like it, then we had bigger issues. Better to deal with disappointment sooner rather than later, I suppose.

Nah. I’ll let her sweat the details for a bit.

She searches my face disappointed when I don’t offer more. I put a handcuff on one hand and yank her behind me to the bathroom.

Because I need time to get everything ready, I motion for her to stand next to the towel rack. I snap the cuffs on the long metal bar.

“I’ll be back soon.” I see her panic-stricken face as she wonders where I’m headed.

“Baby,” I gently stroke her face and hair. “We have company coming later. I have to be ready.” Her eyes perk up at the thought of company. She is dying to know more. She might be dying later if she doesn’t get in line, I think.

That’s the problem—she’s always hunting and searching for evidence unable to relax. I could tell by the cameras around the house that she’s looking for something. There’s stilted movements, long pauses, a scrunched look on her face like she forgot what she was looking for.

It’s gotten her into trouble.

This time, it might not be a situation she can talk her way out of.

The reality is, Levin has all the power right now. She’s the beneficiary. She decides—live or die.