Dexter's command hung in the musty air.

Paralyzing fear.

Natalie had heard it mentioned in books and had seen it portrayed in movies. It was a thing of fiction until it was real...so real that even blinking seemed impossible. Only involuntary tasks commenced—those functions that never really stop. Her heart beat, though the rhythm was like none she’d ever known, erratic and accelerated. Her blood continued to flow, yet did nothing to bring her warmth. Even her lungs took in breath. It was enough to keep her alive, but for how long and to endure what?

It was when her trembling from earlier returned, causing Natalie’s hands to visibly shake and her knees began to knock that she managed to reach out to the sink, an anchor to keep her from falling.

“Rule number one...” His tenor slowed. “I don't repeat myself.”

Natalie had never been fully nude in front of a man—even those she'd dated. She wasn't a prude; she was merely twenty.

“M-may...” Her voice cracked, the word stuck in her throat, barely a croak. She didn’t know how any of this worked. She only knew she didn’t want to face him, to see him, or for him to see her, not as she now was. Natalie cleared her throat, still facing the wall as her fingers gripped tighter to the edge of the sink. “Please, may I have something to wear?"

His shoes upon the cool, hard cement floor echoed, each step reverberating louder and louder against the bare walls as he came closer. When he stopped, she looked down. On either side of her bare feet were shoes—boots with rounded toes. She thought they were the same ones he'd worn on the plane, but she couldn't be sure.

His body, merely inches behind her, radiated warmth, the temperature she craved. Yet his proximity did little to reassure her.

Dexter's large hands moved up and down her bare arms, feathering her skin, a conduit of electricity springing the small hairs to life, similar to the effect of rubbing a balloon. “You're cold.”

It wasn't a question. There was no sympathy to his statement. It simply was.

“Yes.”

He leaned closer, near enough to touch, yet just far enough not to. His coffee-flavored breath reawakened her hunger while also caressing her neck and shoulder in warmth. “Tell me, bug, how you can get warm.”

Her mind filled with possibilities, none of which she wanted to entertain. Each of his words weighed a ton until her head dropped forward, unable to bear the load. With her chin to her chest, tears filled her eyes. She answered the only way she knew how—honestly. “I-I don't know what you want.”

Dexter took a step back, his boots echoing against the stark bathroom fixtures. “Rule number two, disobedience will always be punished. If I tell you to turn, turn. If I tell you to answer me, answer.”

Her shoulders quaked. If there were a door on the bathroom, she'd close it. It wouldn't really be an escape, but it would give her space. And then she realized...the door. The one he entered.

Quickly she spun past him and raced forward. As soon as she neared the barrier, she saw the error of her ways and came to a stop. She was naked in the better lit room, and the door was shut, locked, still with no way to be opened. However, that couldn't be true. Dexter was with her. He wouldn't lock himself in, would he?

She closed her eyes as the tap of his boots echoed upon the concrete. Her dread grew as each step came closer and closer.

“You have a great ass,” he said, running a hand over her skin. “Show me what else I want to see.”

“Don't, please.” Natalie pleaded, recoiling from his touch. “You saw me—everything. You had to see. Who took off my clothes?”

He barely touched her shoulder, encouraging her to turn.

Flinching again, she spun, her loose hair landing upon her shoulders. With a steely expression, she faced him. What difference did it make? He'd obviously undressed her.

She sucked in a breath as, for the first time as his captive, Natalie truly took in her captor. This was different than on the plane or even in the airport. As they stood, Dexter Smithers towered above her. His body was bigger than she remembered—more powerful. With him in his boots and her in bare feet, everything about him made her feel small. As the seconds ticked away, she shrunk under his intense stare.

It wasn’t his words or even his hands that kept her in place. It was the way he was looking at her as his nostrils flared and jaw clenched, and his blond hair fell just over his ears and near his eyes. His gaze pinned her down as the turbulent ocean-blue orbs silently roamed up and down her body. Like his touch, his scan was fire—a scalding-hot poker raking her skin.

Finally, he spoke. “Legs shoulder-width apart.”

Her eyes squinted in the dim light, as if seeing him clearer would give meaning to his words. “What?”

Dexter lunged forward.

Natalie gasped.

His hard body stopped inches away from hers as her chin became locked in his iron grasp. Though she tried to pry her face from his hold, she couldn’t.

Pulling her gaze to his, Dexter said, “I'm running out of patience.” The ocean of his eyes was deep and murky, churning with the turbulent tenor of his commanding tone. “I've waited for this moment far longer than you can imagine. Now I’ve waited for you to wake. I've waited for you to turn and show me what's mine. I won't wait any longer. Don't ask me to repeat myself. You heard my instructions.”

When he didn't release her chin, she slowly repositioned her feet, moving one and then the other.

“Hands at your sides, fingers out, and palms away from your thighs.”

Since she had reached up to his hold upon her chin, trying unsuccessfully to loosen his grip, it took conscious effort to make her hands obey, to untangle her grasp from his, lower her arms, unfurl her fists, and turn her palms out.

“Shoulders back and breasts out.” He made a show of stepping back and admiring her breasts. “I like them. They're not large, but oh, the possibilities are limitless.”

Her eyes closed.

When he released her chin, it began to fall forward.

“No.” He lifted it. “You're a proud woman. I don't intend to change that.”

She audibly exhaled at the absurdity of his statement.

Dexter grabbed her loose hair and yanked it backward, causing her to wince. “Don't do that. Don't make assumptions. Don't assume that I'm debasing you to make you less. When this part of our journey is complete, you'll be more than you ever imagined.” Releasing her hair, he took a step back.

“Before I entered this room there was a noise, a buzzing sound. Did you hear it?”

“Yes.” She'd thought it was the pipes.

“When you hear that sound...” He tapped the floor with the toe of his boot. “...you'll stand here, facing the door, offering yourself.” His gaze narrowed. “Do you need me to mark it with an X?”

“No.” She wanted to mark him with an X—on his chest and use it as a bull's-eye.

“Day or night, it doesn’t matter. This is where you’ll be. You'll stand as you are right now. Legs parted so I can see your pretty pussy. Chest out, so I can watch your nipples bead. Hands at your side, surrendering yourself to me, and most importantly, your shoulders back and chin high. Do you know why?”

Her thoughts were equal parts indignation and fear. How could she possibly know why this man did or required anything? With his stare demanding an answer, a tear fell from her eye and she responded, “No.”

He stepped closer, caressing her jawline as he'd done on the plane. To her cold skin it was fire. “Because you may be my bug, my Nat, but you're no one else's. You're a queen, no longer your daddy's spoiled princess. A queen who'll learn to appreciate the spoils of life. That understanding will give you a regal comprehension that others will see and respect.” His smile widened, causing her empty stomach to clench and knot. “And a queen bows to only one person.” He walked around her, challenging her to move from his required position. One circle and then another. Taking her in, admiring her body while wordlessly claiming ownership.

It reminded Natalie of the way her father or brother would look at a new sports car, inspecting it from every angle, knowing it was now theirs to do with as they pleased. Drive it, pamper it, or recklessly crash it and get another.

Dexter’s words snapped her back to the misery of her new reality. “Tell me, my queen, to whom do you bow?”

The answer was obvious; it was right there. But Dexter Smithers wasn't her king. He never would be. Not as long as he treated her like an object, a thing to be ordered about. She may be naked in this cold room, but that didn’t change who she was. She was Natalie Rawlings, and she didn’t bow.

When she didn't answer, Dexter applied sudden pressure to her shoulders and pushed her down, commanding her new position. “On your knees.”

Fuck you.

The words were on the tip of her tongue, which is wisely where they stayed. The floor bit into her knees. She fell forward, her hands extended to stop her face from hitting the concrete, when all at once her head was yanked back by a fistful of her hair.

“No. Get off your hands. You aren't crawling, not this time. Kneeling is like standing, only lower. You'll now assume the correct position.”

The tears fell faster. “I don't know—”

Crouching down on his haunches, he secured her head back until their gazes focused upon only one another. “You will learn. Now tell me, have you knelt before another man?”

“No.” The word was choked with new tears of both pain and humiliation.

“Never put a cock in your mouth?”

She shook her head to the extent she could. “No.” Though more tears fell, her mind was on alert. If he made her do that, she’d bite him. It would probably end worse, but that was her plan.

“That's it, bug...” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, tasting the salty emotion. “...you saved the tears for me.” He licked his lips. “They taste better than I imagined. I’m sure I’ll enjoy many more. Now, as with standing, knees spread...” He released her hair and using the toe of his boot eased her legs farther apart. “Back straight, sit back on your heels with your toes as your support.”

She did as he said, and without instructions, she rested her arms at her side, opened her fists, and turned her palms up.

“Very good. Now tell me, which is a more comfortable position, standing or kneeling?”

She swallowed. “Standing. The floor is hard.”

“You didn't turn when I told you to turn. Where will you be the next time I enter?”

God, she hated this man. She also hated kneeling. “I’ll be standing where you said...” Her heart ached, but the words could save her this humiliation. “...how you said.”

Dexter nodded. “Good girl, but no. In the future, yes, but not next time.”

Her eyes opened wide.

“I promised you punishment. This is it. You'll remain as you are.” He looked up at the window, at the camera. “You already know that I can watch you. Don't move, shift, or so much as readjust your pretty pink pussy. If you do, your next punishment will be worse, and the next one even worse, until it's your blood I taste instead of your tears.”

Her entire body clenched. He couldn't possibly mean what he was saying. The concrete dug into her knees as her toes bent uncomfortably. She couldn't imagine staying this way. “How long?”

Her stomach again rumbled.

Instead of answering, as if spurred on by the audible sound of her hunger, Dexter smiled and stood. “I almost forgot.”

The buzz filled the air as he walked behind her. She was facing the bed, but the warm air entering the room told her the door was open and that it was warmer beyond the doorway. If only she could turn and look, but just as quickly, Dexter was back, carrying a tray.

“I'd planned to discuss so much more, my expectations and rules for our relationship. I'd planned to do that over coffee and pastries. They really do make amazing baked goods here. The Sachertorte is my favorite.” He removed the cloth napkin, uncovering a tray.

The aroma of coffee and rum-infused cake replaced the musty air. Like Pavlov's dog, her mouth watered and fingers twitched.

Dexter set the tray on the bed, turned over one of the cups and poured rich, warm coffee from the decanter. Bringing the cup to his lips, he hummed. “It's too hot to drink right now, but the mug feels nice and warm.” He placed the mug on the tray. The plate before her was filled with the famous Austrian cake.

Did that mean they were in Austria? Or did they serve that in Germany?

Natalie couldn't think as her lips parted in a silent plea, and her fingers ached to touch the warmth of the cup.

“I had plans, bug. Plans that you decided weren't to your liking. Plans you sabotaged by disobeying.” He poured the second mug. “This would have been yours.” He shrugged. “I suppose technically it still is.”

Her heart raced. Yes, even coffee would help her hunger.

He placed the full mug on the tray. “Good girls get rewards. Bad girls are punished. Don't move, and don't even think about touching this tray. You didn't earn it.”

The emptiness in her stomach spread to her chest, a defeat so overwhelming that she made no attempt to stop the new stream of tears. This was some sick kind of torture.

What could he do that would be worse? Whatever it was, it couldn't be as bad as starving on the cold floor, could it?

Though her body didn’t move, her eyes followed his.

“Whatever you're thinking,” he said, “I promise your imagination can't begin to conjure the possibilities.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her hair. “Don't test me. Bugs can be squished.” He ground the toe of his boot into the floor and then moved it toward her knees, spreading them even wider, exposing her core and causing her thighs to ache. “I'll be watching.”

His steps reverberated through the cool air until she couldn’t see him anymore. There was another buzz, a gust of warm air, and the closing of the door.

This can't be happening. This can't be real.

Her eyes closed. Perhaps she could forget about the tray, but it was impossible while the scrumptious aroma surrounded her. Seeing it within her reach was worse than not having it. With each passing minute, her toes ached more and more. Even her thighs called out in pain.

Perhaps it was hunger, perhaps the effect of the drug, but as time passed, her head began to bob, to fall forward, as her eyes fought to stay open. Each time it fell, she'd pull it back. Through it all, her neck and shoulders screamed out as muscles fought to maintain her position. No longer could she feel her extremities. The tingly sensation had passed; now there was only heavy nothingness.

Natalie didn't know how long she'd been there. There was no way to measure time.

She assessed the clues. The light through the window was now brighter. The coffee was no longer warm as no steam came from the dark, rich liquid. Though she hadn't drunk anything, her bladder again felt full.