Laced

Laced- Chapter 2 (First Intimacy)

I nodded, bring my hand up to wipe away at the tears that had remained from earlier. Disbelief coursed through me - this could not possibly be the Owner. From my knowledge, they were all old, sadistic men who found their pleasure in the pain of their slaves.

But this man? He was young, much too young.

"Nodding is not acceptable. Try again."

I swallowed. "Yeah..?"

He shook his head. "No. You will use 'Yes, Sir' and 'No, Sir' when you answer me. Do you understand? You will completely submit to me and respect me, as I wish."

"Yea-Yes, sir." I quickly corrected myself.

"Good." One corner of his lip twitched, as if he were going to smile, but then changed his mind, his face remaining emotionless. "Follow me."

He turned around and headed to my bathroom, and flicked on the light switch.

"We need to get you cleaned up." He said simply. "Take off everything."

I looked up at him in disbelief, shocked at the ease of his words, and the audacity to demand this. "What? No!"

"What did we just finish discussing, Abigail? I run the rules here." He montioned to my clothing. "Off. Now."

"No."

A hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head so that I had to look directly into his eyes. "I don't think you understand, Abigail Dalton. You do not have a choice. You lost your ability to make decisions the second you walked in here. I won't fucking repeat myself again." He spat.

Cringing away from him, I swallowed nervously. Keeping my eyes on the ground, I began to pull my torn, dirt-crusted t-shirt over my head in defeat. My hands trembled with the clothing, shaking with terror. His threat rang in my ears as I removed the shirt.

He stood there, arms crossed, quiet, watching me as I undressed. "Go on." He ushered.

I unzipped my tattered jeans, and slowly brought them down, and it fell to my ankles. Stepping out of them, I looked up nervously at my Owner.

"Anytime, now." He snapped, then turned to the jacuzzi bathtub. He quickly ran the hot water, and added a little bit of reddish gel to it.

As he busied himself with that, I quickly removed the last articles of clothing I had on. And now, I was standing, stark naked in front of this man I'd just met, my arms wrapped my body in attempt to shield myself from his vision.

He looked up at me from where he was kneeling over the bathtub, and motioned over for me to come with his pointer finger, and then turned his attention to the tub once again, not giving me a second glance.

"Get in. It's warm."

Slowly, I stuck my toes into the water, testing it. Definitely warm - a little bit to the hotter side, but I slid in anyways.

Whatever the red gel he had put in the tub made the bathwater extremely silky, and it smelled wonderfully of pomegranates. Master got up and removed his leather jacket, rolling up the sleeves on his shirt.

Then he squirted a good amount of shampoo into his hand and began to lather my soaked brown hair carefully, taking his time. I was tense at his touch, distrusting him, even though they were gentle.

But as his fingers continued to move through my hair, I surprisingly found myself slowly easing up and relaxing. For some reason unfathomable to me, a bit of the worry I still held drifted away.

Maybe it was because I had finally been caught. Maybe it was because living in constant fear that I could be caught at any moment was worse than being caught. The adrenaline was never ending - my heart was always pounding when I woke up to footsteps in the middle of the night, or gunshots, or screaming.