Liana

 

 

 

“Yes, I understand,” I whisper, defeated. “Master.”

“Good.”

He loosens his grip on my wrists, and I sigh with relief as he straightens himself up, removing his weight from me and coming to kneel between my legs. I remain sprawled out before him, my legs spread, my ripped pantyhose exposing my core to him. I’m trembling and don’t dare to move. His touch is fierce and intimidating. He may hurt me if I don’t go along with whatever he asks of me. And it has become obvious that he’s not in the mood to explain anything.

He’s angry. His face, the way he’s breathing, and the way he charged at me, all of that is proof enough that he’s furious, despite being so calm and collected when I woke up.

I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why he’s so angry at me, why he keeps saying I would be disobeying his orders. What orders? He only told me to call him Master, and I’ve done that, even though it took a warning to remind me. Why did he get so mad when he pulled my skirt up? How did I disappoint him? Is it me? My body? Was he hoping for something different when he grabbed me off the street?

His eyes are on me, observing, as I tremble before him.

“Undress,” he says. “Now.”

I frown at him. “Excuse me?”

“Now!” he repeats, his voice so loud that I flinch with fear.

I am so fucking scared that I can’t fight my flight instinct and move away from him. I struggle up, supporting myself on my hands as I hurry to crawl away from him, moving like a drunken crab and losing one of my heels in the process. I move until I can go no further and feel another wall pressed against my back.

He doesn’t move, but his dark gaze follows me.

“No,” I protest, my voice not carrying the conviction I’d rather have him hear. “Let me out. Please, let me go.”

He furrows his eyebrows, seemingly confused by my objection. He looks like he just asked for the most normal thing, and I’m refusing to give it to him.

“I will count down from three,” he announces. “If you’re not getting rid of your clothes by the time I’m done, then that was it.”

What was what? What happens when he’s done counting down?

“Three,” he says, before I find myself able to react.

“What happens if I don’t?” I ask. “Will you let me go if I don’t?”

“Two,” he says, ignoring my question.

I inhale audibly, trying to figure out what I should do. I can’t just go along with this without knowing why I am here, how all of this happened, who he is and how he found me. If he wanted to kill me, he’d probably have done it by now, wouldn’t he?

Or is that what he’s implying? Will he kill me if I don’t undress for him?

“Will you kill me?” I ask in a frantic tone. “Is that what’s going to happen once you’re done counting?”

He looks at me, showing no sign of acknowledging my question or any eagerness to give me a reply.

“One,” he says.

I gasp in surprise when he suddenly rises up to his feet, his eyes leaving me for the first time since I’ve regained consciousness. He turns his back to me and heads for the door. I curse myself when he turns the doorknob and it becomes apparent that the door has not been locked. I could have run outside the entire time! I’m so freaking dumb!

He opens the door and walks out, quickly closing it behind himself, and even though a loud and clear click sound announces that he’s locking it this time, I jump up and run for the door, trying to turn the doorknob right after he has left.

Of course, it doesn’t move. I’m locked in.

“Hey!” I yell, hammering against the door with one hand while I continue to work the doorknob with the other. “Let me out!”

I pause for a moment, stepping back from the door to listen, and to see whether he was just trying to scare me and is coming back.

But he isn’t.

I can’t hear anything but my own erratic breathing, as I stand a step away from the door, wearing only one shoe, the other still lying on the floor where I lost it, right next to the ridiculous fur coat I stole. I take off my other shoe, as well. My feet are still hurting, and this is not a situation that calls for heels.

I turn around, inspecting the small room calmly now that he’s gone. However, there’s not much to inspect. The room has two windows under the roof slope, and both of them are sealed with shutters from the outside. I have no idea where I am. I could still be in the middle of the city or somewhere far, far away. I no longer have my purse, and I have no idea if I lost it when he grabbed me, or if he took it from me before bringing me up here.

Like most people, I use my phone to check the time and no longer wear a watch. There’s no way for me to know how long I’ve been knocked out. Just a few minutes? Hours? Days?

It probably hasn’t been days. I’m sure my body would feel differently if it had been that long. But I can’t even tell if it’s still night out, or already morning.

I turn around in a circle, searching for clues, or for anything that could help me get out of here. But there’s nothing. There’s absolutely nothing in this room, except for me and the clothes I was wearing when he took me. I’m cold, so I decide to put on the red fur coat. As hideous as it may be, at least it’s warm.

What now? There is absolutely nothing I can do, except for yelling and hammering against the door, until he gets bothered enough to let me out.

So that’s what I do.