I jerked awake at the sound of my alarm going off on my phone, but my movement toward the sound was halted.

Chained again.

It was all coming back to me as I slowly sat up, giving my stomach a minute to settle. I think my stomach was ok. The metal cuffs that were around my wrists were warm, but not hot. It was tolerable for now, but I needed to move and get ready for work.

I stretched my foot toward my phone that lay a short distance away, and once it was in my hand, I sent Howard the text.

SB: I’m up. Please tell me where the key is.

While I waited, I checked out a bruise from last night that was already forming on my shoulder. I sighed when my phone chirped with the incoming text.

H: Taped under your barstool bitch.

Taped under my barstool.

I scooted toward the barstool and pulled it close to me with my foot. Sure enough, there was the tiny key that releases my wrists and ankles from the cuffs. I quickly got out of the cuffs and hurried to the shower. I had thirty-five minutes to get to the bus stop to get to work on time.

“Come on,” I encouraged the water to warm up to at least lukewarm temperatures.

Unable to waste any more time, I got in and quickly, but carefully, washed the memory of my terrible night away. Even though I knew better, I still looked down at the bottom of the shower and watched the blood mix with the water. Ugh. I wasn’t feeling very good at all. I quickly washed my hair and focused on the scent of my shampoo instead of the smell of the blood.

After my hair was dry, I applied my make-up with shaking fingers and then raced to get dressed. The material of my sweater was already bothering my wrists. I went back to the bathroom and found the burn cream and applied it to both wrists and then put the bandages on them. I tugged the sleeves down and tested my limits of lifting or raising my arms. That way I would know how high or far I could reach today before my sleeves raised, exposing the bandages. Confident that I knew my limits, I grabbed my purse and headed to the bus stop.

I was last to get on and therefore the only spot left was the one that I call “the freezer” spot. It was opposite the door, and each time it opens, a burst of cold air surrounds me. I pulled my coat closed and shoved my hands in my pockets. I relaxed a little because I knew the bus would get me there on time. So instead of worrying about that, my mind went back to last night and Howard.

He says I’m a terrible submissive and that I need discipline. I’m frustrated with myself for not knowing how to please him. He doesn’t give me instructions, and when I ask, he just tells me to figure it out. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I just seem to continually fail at it.

I was hungry…and just realized that I left my sandwich at home. From the inside of my coat pocket, I pulled out a small bag of M&M’s and stared at it.

Just you and me today.

I nibbled on a few M&M’s and reminded myself to go slow with them since they had to last me the entire day. I folded the bag closed and put the bag back in my pocket as the bus approached my stop. Thankfully, there was a stop right in front of The Everett Building and a handful of people got off here too. I hurried inside and made it to my desk by 7:50 a.m.

Carefully I slid out of my coat and read over the morning memo and then looked over the calendar from James. James was the assistant to Mr. Everett and his partners and each night he sent me a schedule on the calendar for the next day of all the appointments or meetings the three executives had. I committed those to memory before looking over the emails from each of the department heads that let me know if they were expecting any visitors.

A laugh from the coffee shop caused me to look up. Mr. Graves was sitting with Mr. Everett, laughing over something. They were easy on the eyes. Apparently, everyone thought so. Mr. Everett was probably the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. I’ve been working here for about six months now, and Mr. Everett is still the same kind man I met back in January when I interviewed here. He wasn’t at all fake. There hasn’t been a day where he hasn’t stopped by reception and said good morning to all of us. No other CEO in this building does that, but Mr. Everett does it every day.

Mr. Everett stood, folded his newspaper and placed it between his arm and side, and buttoned his suit jacket. He looked like he stepped off a runway. And he was walking this way with Mr. Graves.

Look busy, Sydney!

I grabbed the memo again and pretended to be reading it when he set his phone down on the counter. All of the women began circling and hurried over.

“Morning, ladies,” Mr. Everett greeted and commented that it was going to be beautiful weather by lunch and that we should enjoy the courtyard. “Morning, Janice and Sydney.” Mr. Everett always gives Janice and I an individualized greeting since we are assigned to his company.

“Good morning, Mr. Everett,” I replied and smiled.

“Have a good day, Sydney,” he said.

He picked his phone up and strode back to Mr. Graves. As the two of them walked toward the elevators, Mr. Graves turned his head and winked at me.