My girl has spent the day exploring her prison. First gazing around in awe at the bedroom, then shyly turning on the shower, like she’s afraid she’ll be punished for it. She proceeds to take a very long and burning hot shower, which annoys me, since the steam prevents me from seeing her.
What a creep I am.
She opens the glass door and steps out, and of course, Vincent chooses that very moment to walk in and set a cup of coffee in front of me. I could kill him. He notices my murderous expression, and jumps back so nervously the coffee practically spills onto the desk.
“Sorry, boss,” he coughs, then hightails it out of there before I can shoot him.
Not that I would. Probably.
By now, my girl is already wrapped tightly in a towel, one of those annoyingly thick fluffy ones that leave everything to the imagination. I notice there are about a dozen identical ones lining a cupboard, each rolled into perfect oblong spheres like in a hotel.
I jot down a note on a pad.
Replace fourth-floor towels with cheap thin ones.
I pause, then scribble:Budget constraints.
It would be easier to text Lucy, but I don’t use my phone for anything other than keeping an eye on my pet and communicating with the other Devils. I don’t want my number getting out. As the leader of Devil, I’m a target.
I train my eyes back to my phone. She’s gotten dressed by now, and I curse under my breath. This time, I have only myself to blame for missing out on that moment.
She’s discovered the small closet with the clothes I personallychose for her. I didn’t have time to stock the big walk-in one, but I did purchase a few things, and Lucy will be bringing her more.
I chuckle, noting my pet’s gone straight for the sexiest option. A short red dress that’s more appropriate for clubbing than for being locked in an apartment. I vaguely wonder if she chose it for me, then banish the absurd thought. I doubt she feels anything but fear of me, and the truth is, I don’t entirely mind. What’s the fun in being a predator if you don’t even frighten your prey?
Though I like knowing I can soothe her just as easily as I can scare her.
She brushes out her hair and it takes a long time, because it’s thick, unruly, never settling into one texture. She gives up after a while, setting the brush down and heading toward the living room. She walks around the large space, running her hands timidly over the couches facing the television. She doesn’t try to turn it on, and I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t dare to or because she has no idea how. It’s better this way, anyway. I don’t want her to zone out in front of a screen. I’d much rather see her walk around.
She heads out onto the balcony, bending so far over the railing that I feel a twinge of nervousness. Does she have a death wish or something? I’m going to have to teach her a lesson about heights so she thinks twice about risking her life like this.
Everything in its time, though.
I breathe a sigh of relief when she edges away from the railing, turning around to admire—or judge—the dozens of potted plants. I can’t tell if she likes them or if she shares my confusion about them. So many fucking potted plants. I’m going to have to revoke Everest’s permission to decorate the apartments on the fourth floor to his liking. He’s entirely too much in love with plants.
She returns to the living room, allowing herself to crumbleonto one of the couches, and for the first time today, I detect something other than awe in her face. Something like… boredom.
Not for long, pet. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be wishing for the boring days.
-
My work is nowhere near done when I slam my laptop shut and get up. I just can’t keep my thoughts off my little captive. I need to get my fix.
I’ve spent the day looking at her in the feed, growing increasingly amused and, well, horny, as I see she’s barely budged since lunchtime. After her morning exploration, she returned to her room, and has since then been sitting by the phone, staring at it. She hasn’t even thought to use it. I would have expected her to try to call the police, or at least a friend. Not that those calls would have gone through. Still, the fact that she hasn’t even attempted it is… interesting, to say the least.
And a little annoying, honestly. Because I would’ve loved to find a good reason to punish her.
As I leave my office and take the elevator down to the fourth floor, my eyes still glued to the phone, I notice her getting drowsy. Soon, her head falls back, her full mouth parts slightly, and her eyes close. She’s asleep.
I enter the apartment noiselessly, cross the living room and walk into the bedroom. Her eyes are still closed and she’s breathing slowly. I drink in her appearance for a while, her beautiful heart-shaped face with the large eyes, the upturned nose and thin lips,the gorgeous tangle of straight thick hair and tiny uneven curls. She’s still wearing the short red dress. She could be wearing a muumuu, though, she’d still be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
She stirs as I walk in. I’ve made no noise, but she’s clearly a light sleeper. No wonder she’s so tired.
I stop in front of her, admiring the dash of freckles sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. Then her eyes flutter open. In them I read an intriguing mix of fear and need.
“Hello, my pet,” I murmur, kissing her nose because I just can’t help it. She’s too cute.
She looks up at me, and I can tell she’s hesitating, darting her eyes around for an escape, even as she remains glued in her chair.
