Then I realized something.
It was going to get warm, maybe even hot. Then what? I wouldn’t be able to hide in the blanket if I was sweating my ass off, and it was only going to make me thirstier…
“We’ll see,” he said.
Fuck! I’d walked right into another one of his traps, and I hadn’t even realized it until it had been too late. Here was another impossible scenario, something else I couldn’t choose a good answer for.
Not only that, but I really did have to piss, which made the lack of a toilet seem problematic for all that I’d been briefly grateful.
I couldn’t fucking win.
It took me a moment to realize he was unwinding a hose from its holder on the wall. He squirted a little bit out on his fingers, frowning, then came close again.
I scooted over and pressed against the wall like it would make a difference, only to get the chill of the concrete all over again. Maybe I was worrying about the heat for nothing. It would take a lot to get this place hot…
He ignored me, going straight for the water bowl. He squeezed the trigger on the handle of the thing on the end of the hose, letting the water fill up the dog bowl.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. On one hand, I was fucking thirsty. On the other, I had to piss. And if I’d had a third hand, I’d have had to use that one to count things off on too, because this was a dog bowl he was filling up with water.
It was one of those big no spill ones, too, made for a bigger dog. I didn’t know how I was supposed to pick it up and drink from it.
Duh, Ryder. You aren’t supposed to pick it up.
Well, fuck him very much.
He watched me. “Aren’t you going to drink?” he asked, starting to wind up the hose again.
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me, but then, that was nothing new. I’d drink after he left and figure out what to do with the fact that I really had to piss,. He could watch on his creepy cam, wherever that was. If I figured it out, I might be able to find an angle to hide from him in…
Though chances were good the asshole had several.
All the more evidence to hang himself with when he finally got caught.
“I’ll wait,” I told him, still wrapped up in my blanket burrito.
He finished coiling up the hose and set it back on the hooks, turning to look back at me. “Is there anything else you need?”
“For some fuckwad to let me out of his basement torture chamber,” I retorted instantly. Really, what did he think I needed? A day at the spa?
“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked as though I hadn’t spoken at all.
Fuck.
It was the inevitable question, one we both already knew the answer to. I didn’t know how long I’d been down there, but it was long enough for my body to start protesting that it had needs. It didn’t appreciate me waiting, either, and as thirsty as I was, the idea of drinking was painful.
“Yes,” I muttered.
“Yes, what?” he asked.
I shot him a sharp look, sitting up a little straighter on my dog bed. “Yes, asshole, you goddamn motherfucking sadistic freak. That better?”
“Yes, Master,” he corrected me, ignoring me again. That was somehow more irritating than if he’d had a comeback.
“Yes,Master,” I snarled. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
He pointed to the drain in the center of the cell. “That’s your toilet.”
I could feel myself paling. The idea of pissing into a drain was disgusting. And then what if I had to…
