Chapter Thirteen
Beg me
The only light in the room comes from the alarm clock on Michael’s bedside table. I have been staring at it for the last two hours, watching the minutes go by.
Michael went out at eight o’clock, and it’s now eleven-forty-two.
I have been handcuffed to the bed for nearly four hours. The first hour and a half was wasted away by me trying to get out of the fucking handcuffs, but all I achieved was cuts to my wrists. The metal bit into my skin as I tried to reach the beside tables to get something, anything that could possibly help me, but my position on the bed meant that I couldn’t reach, and Houdini I am not. I screamed, shouted, cried, but no one came to my rescue. I never expected them to, but the shouting helped to channel some anger outwards.
Once my throat started to hurt, I gave up. With no drink to soothe the soreness, I shut my mouth, laid on my side and watched the clock. My arms have gone numb from their position, but I don’t have the inclination or the energy to move. Michael has done some horrendous things to me but being handcuffed has made me feel more disrespected than anything else. I wouldn’t treat an animal like this, yet he thinks that it’s okay to do this to a human. And not just any human, but someone that he is supposed to love.
Deep down I think that he must hate me because he sure as hell can’t call this love.
Love means possession to Michael.
Possession and control.
Eleven-fifty-one. I hear the front door open. I hold my breath and listen intently. Footsteps walk towards the bedroom door. They stop outside for a few moments before the door swings open and the light from the hallway streams in. I blink rapidly as my eyes adjust and try to get rid of the stinging sensation.
“Well, well, still where I left you.” Michael chuckles as he walks over to the bed. I want to ask him where the fuck he thinks I would have gone, but I clamp my mouth shut. I thought that I despised him before, but now it’s on a whole other level.
He stops beside the bed and looks up and down my body, his eyes roaming, making me feel dirty.
“You know, you look so beautiful like this. At my mercy, waiting for me to come rescue you.”
He sounds so pleased with himself, whereas I just want to vomit from his words.
“Helpless, desirable, and mine. I may have to handcuff you to the bed more often.” He winks, and my blood runs cold at the thought.
He’s stepping his reign of terror up.
I guess the usual mental cruelty and beatings aren’t enough for him anymore.
“Do you want me to unlock the cuffs?”
I nod my head in response.
“I can’t hear you.” His voice booms around the room, echoing off the walls.
“Yes, please,” I say quietly, hating myself.
A deep, low rumble bubbles up from his chest. “You’re going to have to do better than that.” He smirks. I have no idea what he wants from me, but he soon enlightens me.
“Beg.”
“Beg?” I whisper.
“Yes.”
“Please, Michael, don’t do this.”
“That’s not begging, and unless you do it properly, you won’t be moving from there.”
His eyes are cold, his tone icy. I swallow down the lump that has formed in my throat.
He wants me to beg.
Like a dog.
