**Warning**: a bit darker, and more violent non-con. So, beware all ye who enter here, and without further ado....
Ch. 3
Jarrod looked over her body as she slept, debating placing a hand around her throat to see if she would tense. She'd be waking up soon, but this one had a way of making him impatient even as she did nothing but breathe.
He'd restrained her already, leaving the leads lax so that she could sit up and assess her predicament. He wanted her afraid. Compliant.
He'd been serious about teaching her manners. It would be up to her how she wanted to learn--easy or hard. And Jarrod had his preference. She'd pissed him off by not giving into his demands--publicly nonetheless, and she was going to pay for that one day. But for now, he would take time to explain the rules, and see how submissive she was willing to be.
She had already been such a good slut, squirming pleasurably under his touch. He thought of the way her body arched as his hand came down on her ass...the incredible way she arched and bowed. With patience, she could be perfect.
Her head was starting to totter on the table, and Jarrod took a steadying breath. Kenna was about to get a proper introduction.
*******
"Good morning, slut."
Kenna had only just opened her eyes, and already his voice was in her head, rooting her in place. She'd put together that he'd bought her after the auction, after frantically pounding on the glass of her display case, begging
"What did he write? What does it say?!"
Finally a voice came from the speaker above.
"Looks like the lucky girl gets to go home with the boss. Better sit your ass down...while you still can."
Then laughter.
She was laying flat on a hard, raised surface where she could make out the four corners of a small room. Concrete. Kenna breathed as deeply as her panic would allow. She could feel her wrists enclosed in some kind of handcuffs--metal--and she was too scared to look down and find out more.
"Maybe if I just stay still, he'll go away."
The voice was small and naive, and Kenna tried to shut it out. He was going to hurt her... She closed her eyes, willing herself to block it all out. Anything that was about to happen.
"The appropriate response is: 'Good morning, Sir.' Want to give that a try?"
Kenna blinked several times, focusing just on the ceiling above her. If there was a window...even a barred one...maybe she could get out. Scream for help.
Something.
Then, she saw the blur of him move in her periphery, shooting up fast from wherever he was sitting. She couldn't help but pull away, only to have her limbs caught by the binding. It seemed her ankles were tethered too, and she could only pull them up part-way into her body. In that instant, Jarrod was above her, gripping his fingers into the back of her hair. He wore an expression of unamused anger, and Kenna winced just to have him shout down at her.
"You will speak when spoken to. Understood?"
Stupidly, mutely, she nodded her head, and he yanked back.
"Try. again."
This time, she managed to squeak, all the while nodding her head more frantically. She didn't think his fingers could get any tighter, and pain cinched her eyes closed.
"Fear makes people stupid, Kenna, so I am being
exceptionally
patient. Would you like to find out what happens when my patience runs out?"
No, no.
She shook her head.
He slammed his hand down on the table beside her and she flinched. "Speak, slut."
"No!" She realized in a frenzy that he might take that as refusal, and more words came tumbling out after the first. "I-I mean. I didn't--I don't want you to lose your patience!"
"Hmm...that's better." He was instantly softer, running his fingers over her cheek. Still, he kept her pinned like a fly on a slide, if not by the restraints, then by the bar of his arm on either side of her. "But you're forgetting something..."
He waited expectantly, and Kenna searched his face for an answer. She didn't know what he wanted, and her breath came faster. She was trembling now.
Mercifully, he remitted. "No,
Sir.
Yes,
Sir.
Please, Master." His posture shifted and his hands moved down her neck to her collar bone. In following his fingers, she found that her silken dress had been replaced by something beige and formless. Her legs were entirely exposed beneath the short cut, and she wondered if he had redressed her, feeling violated by the thought. "Either title will be acceptable."
Kenna worked hard to repress a grimace.Master.
How fucking disgusting.
"Ah!" He slapped her lightly.
"Guard your thoughts, slut. You should be grateful I let you speak at all."
She lifted her hand to comfort the slight stinging on her cheek, but couldn't quite reach. She thought shehad guarded her expression, but apparently not well enough. "What--" she struggled to frame the question. "What's going to happen?
"I've already told you." He stepped around her, brushing her skin as he moved. "I'm going to teach you manners." He stopped in front of a little, metal table that reminded her of trips to the dentist's office, thankfully absent any malicious-looking tools. Instead, there was a small tin cup, dented in places and filled half-way with water. Beside it, a single portion of bread. Lastly, and folded in a crude square was a green blanket--one of the itchy military types which looked like it hadn't seen use since Vietnam. "These items each represent something. Understand the symbolism? Need a hint?"
