Not sure how he wanted me, I fell to my knees by the bed, facing the doorway. The perfect pose that Sir taught me. My palms faced up on my knees, back straight, head tipped down. I forced my breath to even, settling into the position.
I could feel the disappointment edging into the room as Sabastian stepped in. He was frustrated, and my punishment wasn’t going to be easy. But I’d get through it like I always did.
He didn’t say a thing as he pulled out the chain that had been pushed under the bed last night. My shoulders sunk, not entirely sure if it was good or bad. Either way, it meant I was in trouble.
When the cuff was placed around my ankle once more, Sabastian’s fingers tangled in my hair and he pulled my head up. I could have fought the motion easily, as his grip was light. Much lighter than what Sir ever used with me.
“I’m going out.” Nothing else. Just those three words.
He let go of my hair, leaving me where I knelt like I was nothing.
I barely held myself together, hands staying put on my knees, as the man got ready to leave the house. He changed clothes, put shoes on, and grabbed his keys and phone. He didn’t speak to me.
When he left, the door shutting harder than it had before, I finally let out a breathy sob.
Was this the type of punishment this man would give me? Ones that made me cry without outward pain? Or did he enjoy seeing me fall apart, just like Sir had, and didn’t care how it happened?
Bending over, my forehead touching the top the floor and hands wrapped around my torso, I let the sobs take over. I let the tears fall. And I let my lungs cry out for much-needed air.
If this is what Sabastian wanted to see from me, then he got it.
Would my behavior here make Sir happy? Was he somehow watching, too? I wouldn’t be surprised.
Last night, or well early this morning, Sabastian had seemed kind, helping to get rid of pain. But now, he wanted nothing to do with me. He loathed me.
It was better to not speak if I still got punished either way. Sir liked that game, too. Telling me to answer, but hitting me when I did speak. Because sissy girls were to dress pretty and not be heard. Only seen. Only to please others.
Slowly, my sobs stopped, as did the tears.
I was left empty and raw, with nothing left to care about inside my soul.
If I thought Sir had broken me, I was wrong. This man was doing a pretty good job of breaking me even further.
Swiping a hand over my face to clear the tears, I scooted to a corner by the dresser. The chain clanged with the movement, reminding me how much of a terrified, pathetic pet I was.
Sniffing, I pushed myself farther into the corner, letting the hard wall dig into my back.
***
I didn’t move from my place for what felt like hours. I dozed off and on. My butt was sore from a mix of sitting on the hard floor in the same place for so long, and the bruising.
My entire body ached, and my mouth was dry enough that I had to move.
Standing, my legs cried out, tingles shooting through them with every step. I couldn’t stop the grimace, no longer caring to control my painful expression.
If Sabastian was watching, it’d either piss him off more, or he’d find entertainment in my misery. Or both. Who knows.
Shuffling on soundless feet, I used the bathroom, making sure there was no mess left on the seat. Sitting down always worked to make fewer drops that had to be cleaned up.
Flipping my skirt back down, the hem hiding my feet, I paused in front of the sink.
My green eyes were shadowed in red from two crying fits in less than twelve hours. That wasn’t anything new, either.
Sir loved to see me cry, then he’d punish me for crying.
My hair was curly, and a bit everywhere. Fixing the strands, I spotted a hair clip on the edge of the sink, not remembering seeing that earlier.
Lifting a shoulder, I pulled back part of my hair from my face and clipped it back with the black thing that looked kind of like a spider. It had eight plastic things that could be like a spider’s legs. And, I didn’t know what these clips were called anyway.
