CHAPTER THREE

I’m not sure what I expected, but his house is nothing short of extravagant. As we step inside, I consider the foyer with a slight sense of wonder. I know a life of crime pays, but for me to have never heard of this Justin character, and for him to be so apparently wealthy seems unfeasible. Then again, as I have been forced to realize, he is exceedingly good at what he does. I’m shaken from my thoughts as he unclips my leash, considering me for a moment.

“This is for when we’re in public. The collar, however, stays on as long as you are with me.” He says simply. I nod to indicate my understanding, resisting the desire to tug at the itchy thing. Now that the leash is no longer clipped to it, the pressure is a bit more bearable, though I’m loathe to admit it. He hangs the leash on a hook beside the door, and I’m forced to wonder how long he’s had this little set up prepared. He turns back to me, and I swallow the lump that forms in my throat as I realize what is likely coming. He has no reason to refrain any longer, so I fully expect him to sweep me to the nearest bedroom and completely brutalize me. However, he simply gestures for me to follow. I’m obviously in no place to argue, so I trail behind him until we reach the living room. He pauses for a moment, finally undoing the rope loops that keep my arms bound. Then, he takes a seat in a plush leather recliner, gesturing to a spot on the floor beside it. “Sit. I’ll explain the rules.” He orders. I quirk a brow, uncertainly pointing to the spot beside him.

“On the floor?” I ask dumbly, and he snorts in response.

“Yes, on the floor. Rule one, don’t ask questions. Just obey.” He grouses. I hesitate only a moment longer before dropping to the floor beside him. He watches my every move, and though for now I’m still clothed, I feel entirely exposed beneath his stare. “When I give you a command, you are to reply with ‘Yes, sir’. No exceptions. Don’t get mouthy, and show me respect at all times. For the duration of your stay, you are to strip down every time we’re in the home together.” He pauses, looking at me expectantly. I want to protest, but I don’t know what the repercussions will be.

“Yes sir.” I say bleakly, not testing the boundaries for now. He smirks, seeming to like the sound of that.

“Very good. When I have guests, you are to remain quiet unless directly addressed. Do not embarrass me. If you speak out, you will regret it. Am I clear?” He murmurs. I shift uncomfortably beneath his stare, beginning to nod before catching myself.

“Yes sir.” I repeat. He nods slowly, seeming to consider his next move. I hope he will allow me to keep my clothes and dignity for now, but it seems there is no such luck. He gestures for me to stand, pointing to a spot directly in front of himself. I rise to my feet, shuffling towards the spot and waiting for my next command. He seems to revel in my discomfort, slowly reaching down towards his pants. I try to look away as he unzips his pants, but he calls me down immediately.

“Look at me. Look at me.” He orders breathily. I swallow my pride, forcing myself to return my gaze to him and his lewd actions. His length is already free of his pants, and he strokes it up and down at a languid pace as he watches me. “Now, strip. Slowly. Make it fun for me, pet.” He rumbles. I hesitate, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Yes sir.” I bleat, feeling like a parrot or some other sort of animal at this point. My hands shake, and my fingers fumble with the buttons of my top. I inhale a shuddering breath, trying not to sob as I struggle with my still somewhat numb hands. They had been pinned behind me for some time, and as much as I want to obey the command, my fingers are simply too clumsy right now. He watches me with a quirked brow, slowing the strokes of his shaft until he stops altogether. He stands, tucking himself back into his pants before approaching me. I try not to flinch away, even as he draws a switchplace from his jacket pocket. I swallow a fearful whine as he rips my shirt open, cutting through the fabric of my remaining clothes. The tip of his blade just barely touches my skin, not enough to cut, but enough for me to feel its presence even in my most intimate areas. Tears are streaming freely down my cheeks now, but he says nothing, instead pocketing his blade and returning to his chair.

“Next time I will not be so kind.” He promises, malice in his words. I nod, gasping a shuddering breath.

“Yes sir.”

The days following aren’t any better, and the nights are restless. He has no place for me to sleep, or at least, that’s his claim. I’m certain he has spare bedrooms, but instead he has me sleep on the floor, at the foot of his bed. If I thought his initial actions were sexually charged, I truly had no idea what I had signed up for. Every night as he is getting ready for bed, he has me strip him of his clothes. While the first night, he had not guided my hands, he has started moving them closer and closer to his more intimate areas. He seems to be holding back, and I can only wonder how long he can contain himself. He has no reason for showing any restraint, but perhaps it is simply the thrill of stretching out my humiliation. The weeks are stretching on at an agonizingly slow pace, almost to the point that I wish he would simply get it over with.

On the last night of the second week, as I am stripping him of his clothes, he places my hand directly on his manhood. I hesitate, meeting his gaze reluctantly. His expression is strained, and I feel him pulsing against the palm of my hand. I draw my lip between my teeth uncertainly, wrapping my fingers around his length. He seems close to coming unwound, and his hips jerk almost involuntarily against the pressure of my fingers. I begin to move my hand, but he grasps me by the wrist to stop me.

“You’ve been very good, pet.” He says, sounding strangled. His erection bobs in a way that would be almost funny if not for the severity of the entire situation. “You’ve been… so good. So good, in fact, that I think I’ll present you with a gift, tomorrow morning.” He manages to choke out. I swallow a lump in my throat, having a vague idea of what the gift may be. He hesitates, brushing a hand through my hair. “Would you like that? Would you like a present from your Master?” He inquires, tensing a hand in my hair.

“Yes sir.” I lie. He ushers me out of the bathroom, and I move to my place at the foot of his bed. I struggle to fall asleep, the sounds of him pleasuring himself haunting me late into the night.