My tears had dried, leaving my eyes red and nose stuffy.
I would have never thought that someone would turn down my services. That bothered me. That was my whole purpose, wasn’t it? To serve and be used? Why did the man turn me down?
No closer to an answer, since it wasn’t like I could go to the man and ask him why he wouldn’t use me for my purpose, I twisted out of the covers and out of bed. Still naked, I padded towards the bathroom.
It was my turn to sigh as I stood in front of the toilet. I seriously needed to pee, yet my body wouldn’t let me. Sometimes, my bladder just couldn’t let go, and that ended up with me being hit or punched. Then, I’d definitely release the liquid, most of the time on the floor. Which, in turn, meant I had to clean up the mess.
Holding in a huff, I wanted to yell at my body to just freaking work. It never did what it should. Iwouldn’t get hard when men wanted me to be. I wouldn’t stay soft when someone wanted me not to be hard. Couldn’t take a crap either, half the time, without something helping.
I was a lost cause. Or maybe, I was just trained well enough that my body knew better than to go against any orders. It didn’t matter if there wasn’t a need for a command just to let my bladder release.
Dropping my chin to my chest, I was just about to give up.
“Dakota?” I held my breath at my name. As Sir’s form pressed against my back, him clothed and me naked, I felt more exposed than I ever had before. “Does it hurt?”
Just my pride.
I shook my head as my cheeks warmed in a different way.
Sir hummed, letting one of his hands slip down to lightly hold my penis, aiming it towards the water in the bowl. At the same time, he brushed my hand away and pressed his nose against my neck as though he was breathing me in.
A small part of me wanted to melt against him, to let him have his way to wake up a part of me that was long dead. Yet the more intelligent part of me knew to keep my guard up, knowing he owned me. He could – and would – hurt me in time.
“Relax.” His other hand pressed against my bladder, putting just enough pressure to make it release. At first, the trickle was slow, unsure. Then, as Sir slightly massaged the muscle, my bladder fully let go. The urine stream hit the water with a splash. My breath ghosted out of my lungs while my head swam with more thoughts that didn’t have the right to be there.
“Good boy.” Sir pressed a kiss to the side of my head before stepping back. Then, as if it was expected, he took hold of my hand, leading me to the sink. There, he washed both of our hands under warm water. And he dried them off with a gentle touch.
“There are clothes on the bed for you. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.” With that, he left me standing in the bathroom.
Shaking all thoughts from my mind, I did as he told me to—a simple pair of cotton sleep pants and ashirt. The clothes from before had been picked up at some point, most likely by Sir.
Once dressed, I found Sir where he said he’d be. I paused for a moment, debating on where he wanted me. To kneel or to sit at the counter or the table. Thankfully, he told me where.
Sitting at the counter, a plate of mixed fruit was placed in front of me after I took a seat, along with a cup of water. And two pills.
“Did you have a good nap?”
I shrugged at the question and popped the pills into my mouth. Then, knowing better than to wait this time, I took a cut-up piece of strawberry and placed it in my mouth next.
It had been so long since I had anything sweet, let alone fruits. My taste buds came alive, nearly making me drool.
“How often do you have trouble peeing?” My cheeks reddened again at the question. I shrank in on myself, hoping he’d let the question pass. No such luck as he cleared his throat.
“Sometimes. Not often.” How he could hear my answer, I’ll never know. I was hoping he’d seethrough the lie. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I was just used to being told when and where I could do things—and being watched. It was strange not to be monitored or heard. It messed with my head.
Maybe that’s why I was always kept in a cage when my services weren’t required?
“If you have issues, come to me.”
“Yes, Sir.” We both knew I wouldn’t, but I spoke the words anyhow.
“While you rested,” he went on. “I wrote out a list of things you can do around here.”
“Thank you, Sir.” I glanced at him, hoping he understood what I felt inside. I wasn’t exactly thankful, but having things I could do daily would help me have some sort of footing—at least a little bit.
Sir slipped a piece of paper closer to the plate, that was nearly empty of food now. I hadn’t realized I had been so hungry. Or maybe it was just a way to avoid having to answer his questions.
“I’m assuming you can read.”
