It meant he wanted to be reassured, and so fucking help me, I hated being the person to tell him it would all be okay. Every time I said it, it might as well have reinforced the lie in my own mind.
Would I start believing it one day from telling him so much?
Sometimes I wondered if he knew that was what was happening. Maybe I was giving him too much credit, but I wouldn’t have put it past him to set me up to repeat that it was okay until it tricked my mind into believing it.
Assuming I could ever believe it.
Then again, I didn’t think it was that bad anymore…
“Yeah,” I lied — no,said, because it wasn’t even that much of a lie anymore. Thingsweregetting better, which was both a blessing and a curse. I didn’t want to be miserable, but I didn’t want to surrender any more than I already had. It was a slippery slope, and I was already tumbling down, closer and closer to the edge.
I didn’t know what would happen when I finally fell off.
“I’ve been trying to make things good for you,” he said.
Like locking me away in a kennel was good. Like feeding me tuna and milk to satisfy his own perversions was good. Like kissing me when I didn’t want it was good.
Like any of this was fucking good!
But it could’ve been worse. I could’ve still been in thecell downstairs, forced to give myself painful enemas. I could’ve been freezing, drinking water out of a dildo, and locked away from even the slightest bit of daylight.
Being up here was better, and if I had to do what he wanted to stay in his good graces, so help me, I’d fucking do it even though it was killing me inside.
Then again, what was worse? Clinging to who I wanted to be and being tortured for it? Or letting myself become what he wanted me to be instead?
When had his priorities get put ahead of mine, and why were they staying there?
I exhaled slowly, looking up at him, unsure of what to say. What could I possibly say to that? “I know,” I said. It wouldn’t be enough, but it was all I could offer. Even that pained me to say, and I didn’t know where to go from there.
He sighed. “I don’t get the feeling that you’re grateful.”
Dangerous. Fuck. Warning bells were going off in droves, and I knew I needed to do something to salvage the situation before he started to get ideas.
I had the sudden visual of being trapped behind those bars again, and I shuddered.
I leaned in and kissed him, and he let out a surprised sound before kissing me back. It was something. It had to be enough.
He smiled as he drew back, his thumb sliding along my cheekbone. “Good kitten,” he praised me. “And to think, that used to be hard for you.”
Something wrenched in my gut, and I wanted to violently jerk away from him. I didn’t want to be near him in that moment, not with the reminder of how things had been. It had been callous of him to mention it in the first place.
“Please don’t,” I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
“It’s true,” he said, being downright cruel. “Now you know it can be better, don’t you? If you just surrender to me.”
I hated him in that moment. I absolutely fucking hated him.
He sighed, brushing at the tears. “I just want you to be happy here,” he said, his voice gentle.
I looked at him, knowing my expression was bleak.
Instead of speaking, he kissed me again, softly and carefully. I could feel the stubble on his chin, and it felt so wrong. At the same time, I really was getting used to it, and it was a comfort.
Kisses meant he was happy with me, after all.
At the same time, kisses reminded me that he wanted more from me, more than I was willing to give.
But he was going to take it all the same, slowly, bit by bit, until there were only pieces…
