“We’ll worry about your ass after.”
Oh, that wasn’t ominous.
“You can go,” I told him, as imperious as though I was the one on the outside of the cell doors.
“Nah. I’ll wait,” he said.
He wanted to watch me humiliate myself — with the drain, with the water, with struggling to keep from flashing him, with all of it. From the tent in his jeans, I was pretty sure he was getting off on it, too.
Then again, it seemed like he was getting off on all of this, so there wasn’t a reason to be surprised.
I waited as long as I could, but I really, really had to pee. I didn’t want to risk getting the blanket wet, which meant I was going to have to stand up naked in front of him. The thought chilled me enough to where I thought I could wait a little longer…
But I was thirsty, too, and goddamnit, he kept setting me up to fail.
Finally, I stood, letting the blanket stay on the dog bed. I heard his sharp inhalation, the footsteps as he got closer, and I fought the urge to whimper. I kept my back turned to him and walked back to the center of the cell.
The drain was weird. It had bigger holes than I would’ve expected, but then, I didn’t go around staring at drains either. I just knew it was a lot bigger than the one in mybathroom back at home. For some reason, I didn’t think that boded well for me.
I had to stop freaking out about it, though. If I kept panicking, he would win, and I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I aimed for the drain, thankful for all the practice in dunking Cheerios in the toilet bowl when I’d been a kid. It was like heaven to finally relieve myself, damn near orgasmic in just how strong the urge had been. When I was finally done, I shook my cock off.
Fuck it.
I went to the water bowl, crouching down. I started to cup my hands so I could get some out, but he snapped, “No. Bad boy.”
I glared at him.
“Your hands are filthy,” he told me, making a point I hadn’t expected him to make.
It hadn’t seemed so gross when I was that thirsty, but now that he’d mentioned it, I was all too aware.
“So how am I supposed to drink?” I retorted.
I wasn’t going to like the answer to that question, and I knew it.
“Lean over, and drink. Just pretend you’re… I don’t know…” He paused as though mulling it over, even though both of us knew that was utter bullshit. “A puppy, maybe?”
“I’m not going to do it.”
“You weren’t going to take off your clothes either,” he pointed out.
Damn it.
Why did I keep surrendering, again and again?
What other choice did I have?
I got to my knees, already hating how the cold cement felt beneath them. I braced myself then leaned over, tryingto take a sip from the dog bowl but ending up half-drowning myself in the process.
I could hear him chuckling, and I shot him a fierce look — for all that it didn’t matter, considering where we were, on which side of the bars we were on. I could give him all the fierce looks in the world, but in the end, he was the one with the keys…
And I was the one on my knees.
4
Griffin
