I could still see the trail of scars down his arm, disappearing beneath the fabric of his jeans along with his hand. I made a face.
“What do you expect me to do? Roll over and show you my belly?”
“You’ll be doing that before long.” The certainty in his voice had me worried, damn near squirming from it.
I swallowed hard, not sure what else to say. His confidence — arrogance — was so disconcerting that I wasn’t sure how to handle it any more than I knew how to handle the rest of the situation. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, which meant I was at a severe disadvantage.
Well, that and the fact that I was behind bars and he held the key on the other side. That made a difference too.
“I’m hungry,” I told him, sullen and annoyed by the exchange and the fact that he’d gotten the last word again.
“Drink, and I’ll go get your food,” he said, still standing there, still staring at me.
I sputtered. “Um, fuck no? That wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Who’s calling the shots here?” His eyes narrowed.
Was he really going to be an arrogant prick here, too?
Stupid question. Of course he was.
“I’m not going to do that with you watching,” I told him stubbornly, shaking my head.
“You’re lucky I promised you food and drink if you cooperated,” he replied. “Otherwise, you’d be waiting.”
At least that was one thing I’d noticed about him. He kept his word once he gave it, but it wasn’t like it helped me any… until now. How long that would carry over, I didn’t know.
“You’ll get a treat if you drink while I watch,” he said.
“Oh, we’re going with real bribery instead of threats now?” I retorted.
“I’m going with whatever’s going to make you do what I want,” he said bluntly.
It surprised me a little, but then, it wasn’t like it was news. He’d already shown that he was willing to bribe and blackmail me into cooperating. This wasn’t much different, only something extra instead of a means to an end.
“Nope. Not happening.” I could be stubborn about this, at least. I’d drink when he left, before he could get to the creepy cameras and watch.
Then again, he was probably recording all of this too… which was just more evidence. When I was rescued — ha — they’d see the sort of shit he’d done. He hadn’t laid a hand on me, but…
But nothing.
I swallowed hard, realizing how it would look. I had done everything to myself. Maybe it had been because of things he’d said and done, but I’d still done it. I couldn’t imagine video footage of me shoving the enema nozzle into my ass, or…
I looked at the phallic waterer thing when he started walking away.
That would be on the video too, the sight of me drinking from it… because I was going to have to. I was thirsty enough totry it, and once he’d disappeared up the stairs, I bolted for it.
It was awkward, tasting off in my mouth, but when I sucked on it, I got the fresh water. I tried to get more of it into my mouth, humiliated beyond belief but desperate to finish drinking before he returned.
When I was done, I retreated to my little bed, curling back up in the blanket. It was already becoming a safe haven, even though it wasn’t really safe at all. It was just the only place I had to go to.
I’d started to doze off when he returned, but I perked up. He was carrying another dog bowl — of fucking course — and I couldn’t tell what this was. It wasn’t like the last time, when it had smelled fantastic. This didn’t really have much of a smell.
He pushed the bowl into the cell’s food slot, and I slowly moved closer. I stared dubiously down at its contents, gravy over some brown sludge.
“It’s stew,” he told me, his voice a little dry, “not dog food. Tempting as that might’ve been.”
I glared at him.
