Page 76 of Volatile Waters

I marched to him, but he didn’t retreat. In his face, I declared, “I don’t want you.”

We were the same height. That put his soul reading eyes in direct view. They peered into me, through me, and read my future. “You’re. Lying.”

Trying to disguise my urge to throttle him, I said, “Do you want to earn your shower or not?”

Chest to chest, he angrily replied, “What I want is for you to admit the truth.”

As I inhaled for patience, I could feel my nostrils flaring. “Why does it matter?”

“Because you are the closest person I have here. And I have been taking you for your word. My family is safe? I need to know if you’ve been lying to me.”

“I didn’t.”

“The only way I can be sure of it is to know I’m right. That you lied just now.”

This was a pivotal moment for us. Trust could gain me much leverage in his training.

My mouth sucked in my lips while I debated on admitting something so powerful to a slave. Would it give him the upper hand? “I…” Am I attracted to you? As he adjusted his stance, his leg grazed mine. Chills raced up my body. “Okay. I’m attracted to you, but it means nothing.”

“Are you the one who will be ‘training’ me?”

I swallowed to keep my voice from sounding gravelly, but it didn’t work. “Yes.”

He lifted his chin. “I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

“Your preference is no concern of mine.”

He smirked. “You just lied again.”

“Last chance for a shower.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you alone. What do I have to do to ‘earn’ some soap?”

His demeanor, for his circumstance, was unexpected. He wasn’t begging to be released. It was as if he had accepted his fate and wanted it over with as quickly as possible. As if he was sure he had the mental capacity to survive training, some time with his new Master, and the wits to break free at the first chance. I should’ve recognized such skill, but I was too busy seeing other things—like Wolf on his knees before me.

Gazing up at me, he asked, “Now what?”

I had so many scenarios rushing through my mind, but said, “That is it for now.”

According to Wolf’s scowl, he didn’t particularly appreciate the comments being made regarding his nude body as he walked the hallway to the shower room. Even though the words were in Russian, he understood the gestures.

He wasn’t leashed. He was somewhat free game. Only the strict instructions about his training kept him safe.

In the grey cement block bathroom with three showerheads, Wolf teased, “This room is so uplifting.”

“No comments. Just shower.” I told myself that I watched him wash himself to make him uncomfortable, not because he looked as if he were a god under a waterfall, bathing in a spring instead of a shower. His mere presence made my cage fade away completely.

Yes, the gloomy block walls melted away as I watched soap suds drip down his chiseled back and into the crack of his ass. He turned to rinse his long hair, leaning his head back to spray his face with water. In a relaxed fashion, the corded muscles in his neck stretched and bowed as he demanded. It was mesmerizing.

After turning the water off, he asked, “Are us slaves permitted to have towels?”

I threw him one. “Dry off then it is to go in that basket.” I pointed to one in a corner.

At first, I spent hours a day with Wolf. I told myself it was all about the training—developing his mind into having a new viewpoint on the male gender. I needed him to see me as so much more than a trainer or man. In fact, I didn’t want him to view me as one at all. I needed him to desire affection, and desire it from me, since I was all he had.

No other trainers were permitted in his room because of this. When I was to start eventually cutting his visits back, he would long for the company. In turn, hopefully, he would long for me. Isolation can twist a mind. I needed his warped so that I could convince him he wanted me to console his loneliness.

Our discussions ranged from minuscule subjects to the present situation. I knew about his first girlfriend in the third grade. He knew that I wet my bed for a couple of years after my mom was killed.