Jailbait (Boyxboy)

Chapter 20- Anxiety

(Jailbait's P.O.V)

“Get up,” Emment came strolling into the room with a manner of importance about him. As always, his black leather suitcase was clutched tightly in his right hand which was covered in a black glove. My knees ached slightly as I stood up from the cramping position that ‘Sir’ Emment had left me and I groaned as the muscles in my legs tightened. 

He said it had been almost a week and a half since I came here and I must say, I had never felt so much physical and mental pain in my life. You couldn’t blame me though. Emment liked to wake me up nice and early every morning to begin my training or ‘daily reminders’. He knows that I know everything that he taught me but whether I put it to good use, that’s the problem. He says that I talk back to him and that I’m ignorant for not appreciating the fact that a ‘wealthy, handsome highblood vampire’ would show me attention. When I’m not talking back to him he says that I give him dirty looks and that I constantly look like I’m about to fall asleep. Both were very true. 

He has to cut me some slack, I mean, I’m not the most co-operative person and I think he’s figured that out too. I know this because of the cane that he carries around like it’s the latest fashion accessory. I never complain, well since I got here (Emment says otherwise). Strange the way I got hurt almost every day but never complained but back home it was the opposite. 

“We’re going to a party.” He sat down in front of the wooden coffee table. I looked at him confused. Vampires have parties? 

“You’re shitting me.” I said. He shot me a cool glare from across the room. If I had said anything like that a week ago then I would already be on my ass but Emment and I have this weird thing going lately. I don’t know whether he’s just tired of correcting/punishing me or if he knows that my current attitude is as ‘submissive’ as he’s going to get.

“Sir?” I asked. He opened his pristine briefcase and ignored me. I sat down on the roomy armchair across from him and lay my cheek on my fist. “Sir.” I said again, slightly irritated. 

He didn’t move from his position but glared at me from under his curly hair which was the only thing messy about him. 

“Sorry, Sir.” I said. I didn’t necessarily mean it but it’s not worth the argument of defying him. 

“Did I say you could sit down, boy?” He asked. 

“No, Sir-”

“Then why did you...” He rubs his nose. “You know what I don’t care.” He went back to rummaging in his briefcase. I wanted to ask more about the party but I knew that he hated when I asked questions. 

Emment took a variety of different sized boxes out and lined them up in front of him. I couldn’t help the small spark of curiosity I felt as he got up and left me alone with them. 

“Don’t touch.” He called from the other side of the room. I shook my head and slouched further back in the chair. He comes back over to me with a blade, washcloth and a couple other things in his hands. I sucked air as he gleamed at me amusingly before putting them on the table.

“Did I ever mention my strong affection for you, Sir?” I asked. 

“Every time I pull out something sharp.” He stated matter-of-factly. He pointed to his feet. “Kneel.” First he wants me to stand and then he wants me to kneel? I obliged anyway and forced my sore muscles into a kneeling position. He pushed my hair back from my face and I resisted the urge to try and cover my forehead. “You need to cut your hair.” 

He dipped the washcloth into a bowl which I guess contained some water then rubbed it on my face. The warm water against my face was somewhat relaxing but I didn’t let myself get comfortable just yet. He massaged the warm water into my face before opening up a box and squirting some sort of foam into his palm from a bottle. He used his fingertips to rub it into my neck and the lower half of my face. I pulled back slightly at the foreign substance but Emment had a tight grip on my hair.