It was much too early when he flashed on the light, the next morning, but at least, with the luxury of my duvet, I'd slept beautifully. I was a bit puzzled when he took me across to the lift... surely he wasn't planning on taking me outside when I was starkers. But, instead, we went down to the basement and he took me into his gym.
He set me off on a running machine whilst he started on a cross trainer. Then he moved me across to the rowing machine as he started doing some work with weights.
He had to interrupt his own workout a couple of times to sort out the way I was doing the rowing. It felt a bit funny to have his hands on my naked body - but not as nasty as I'd have thought. By now, I'd got used to being starkers in front of Mr Bossy... at least there wasn't anybody else about!
The session on that rowing machine was pretty tough. There was a little screen in front of me showing a cartoon of a rowing boat being chased by a shark. I guess that somebody thought it was funny but I wasn't laughing. I didn't need him to tell me that letting that shark catch me would not be fun!
But as I struggled to keep that stupid shark off my tail, I kept an eye on Mr Bossy working on the complicated weights machine in the middle of the gym. It looked like he was chucking impressive stacks of ironmongery around.
And when he was done with the weights, he moved across to a punchbag that was hanging in the corner of the room. And, as he started hammering into it with his hands, feet, elbows and pretty much everything else, he looked like a cross between a ballet dancer and a psychopath. I suddenly realised that, even though he'd been really angry with me in that meeting, he'd never come close to losing his temper. In a way, watching with that bag was almost as frightening as the whole knife and finger thing.
But then there was a beep from the rowing machine to warn me that the stupid shark was about to catch me. So, with a bit of a grunt, I set to work to get myself a bit more distance.
At last my rowing fun was over and Mr Bossy took me over to a couple of gym mats in the corner and started me off on some stretching exercises. I'd been in a gym club when I was little and so, without really thinking about it, I slipped into my old, familiar stretching routine. He watched me for a bit and then gave a nod of approval. He could see I knew what I was doing.
When we were done, I was allowed the luxury of a whole ten minutes in the bathroom. Then I had to watch him as he ate his breakfast. I wasn't that bothered about the healthy müesli and yogurt but I was really jealous of his delicious smelling coffee.
Before he left, he warned me that a doctor would be coming in to give me a medical checkup at eleven o'clock and that I should go through to my old bedroom to wait for her... and he even let me wear the polo shirt for the doctor.
Very generous of him.
Then, for the first time that morning, he turned to me and looked me in the eye. "Kitten," he said, "just a little reminder to eliminate any possible doubt: I would consider the disclosure of any personal information about you or me, or about the relationship between us, to be an act of personal betrayal." A shudder went through my whole body at his words. "You do not want that to happen."
Then, of course, I was sent to the tiled room as His Mastership set off for work. At least I wouldn't be sitting on the hard floor this morning... and he didn't even bother to handcuff me.
And when I investigated my kitten bowl, I found that it had been filled with a mixture of chopped pieces of fruit and raw vegetables. It was pretty boring... certainly no mango... and a bit random because I couldn't use my hands... but it was miles better than yesterday's sludge. Hopefully that vile stuff was just a warning about how bad things can get if I'm not a good and well behaved kitten.
The medical examination was a bit uncomfy and distinctly... intimate but it did, at least, provide a little variation to the crushing boredom of my day. The lady doctor was about as nervous as me so the whole thing was a bit strained. I got the impression that she had nasty threats hanging over her fingers too.
I was snoozing quietly in the luxury of my new duvet when Master turned up. I had a panic when I thought I might be late but I checked with my clock and it had only just turned five. I couldn't be in trouble for not being ready for him when he was early, could I?
I hurried to meet him when he whistled and was relieved to see that he wasn't grumpy. He was on the phone but he smiled at me and rubbed my hair which was a great relief. Then he walked up to his study and I followed him like a good kitten.
I collected his slippers for him and, as he carried on talking on the phone, I helped him to change. I tried to listen in on his conversation but it was so complicated that I couldn't really follow it. I did manage to work out that they were talking about a shipment of some sort of unnamed goods that had gone wrong. Mr Bossy remained calm and didn't make any obvious threats but he did make it clear that the other person would be meeting all the costs.
Mr Bossy had already clicked on his computer and, when he finished his call, he just said, "A cup of tea, Kitten," without even looking at me.
And, as I made my way downstairs, I could see what life had in store for me. I was going to be his pet - some sort of intelligent toy that could run little errands for him. He was going to be a bit cruel to me in little, teasing things - the food games and the starkers thing... but, as long as I was a 'good kitten', I could trust him to look after me.
I mean... it wasn't exactly what I'd been looking for in life but, on balance, it might be better than trying to live on the streets.
And it wasn't as if I had any choice.
As the kettle boiled, I tried to work out how I felt about my new life. It was impossible, of course, but, then again, I'd stolen off him... betrayed his trust... and, I guess, not many people who'd done that would come away with all their fingers and toes.
And, as I got the things together, I reached a decision. If I was going to be his kitten, I might as well be the best kitten I possibly could.
The flowers were still in the middle of the kitchen island so I chose a pretty red one, put it in a glass and added it to the tray then tried to arrange everything neatly. And I'd found the rest of that packet of cookies from our very first evening. Of course I was tempted... sorely tempted... but I knew that would be an instant whacking offence.
And, with the thought of those terrible whacks, I had no problem controlling myself.
But I did add a plate with a couple of the cookies to his tray.
Of course he noticed straight away. "Cookies!" he said. "Were you perhaps hoping that one of them might find its way to you?"
I nodded sheepishly and might have turned bright red in response! There didn't seem to be any point in trying to lie!
I had to pay for my treat, though, and keep one of the things balanced on the end of my nose for about ten years before he let me eat it... with no hands, of course.
"Right, turn around and kneel down," he told me when I was done and of course I did... instant, unthinking obedience was sort of becoming a habit. "Now stay still!"
I flinched a bit as he pulled some sort of strap round my neck and had to will my muscles not to move. I was so terrified of what he was going to do to me that I was trembling.
"Relax, Kitten," he told me, running a hand through my hair. "I'm not doing anything nasty; I'm just putting your collar on!"
I found myself breathing again as he gently fastened the buckle and, when he had finished, he turned me round so he could look me in the eye. "This is a symbol of the fact that you are now my property, Kitten," he told me in an unusually gentle voice, "and my responsibility."
And, even though he had just fastened a collar around my neck, I felt grateful and found myself rubbing my head against his leg.
For tea, he had a Chinese style omelette followed by an exotic fresh fruit salad so I found myself scampering around on the floor of his den, playing fetch with a ball...
And don't tell His Bossiness but I'd have done heaps more than that to earn those strawberries and bits of mango! After the boring stuff I had been eating, they were absolutely delicious.
Then, afterwards, Master stretched out on the sofa, while I knelt in front of him, and he told me to tell him something about myself. That was a surprise. By now, I was out of the habit of talking.
So I told him about growing up with my mum... and about my stepfather appearing on the scene... and about how he'd started touching me horribly whenever my Mum's back was turned.
I told him about how it was getting worse... and how my mother hadn't believed me... and how she had thought that I was only stirring up trouble because I never liked him.
I mean... it was true that I'd never liked him but I really did have good reasons.
By this time, I was in floods of tears so I don't know how much Master could understand.
Then I told him how the touching was getting worse and worse... and how I just knew that it was only ever going to end one way... and then I told him about how I'd stolen my step dad's wallet, with nearly a month's wages in it, and run away.
"Something of a pattern emerging here," he observed with a bit of a smile.
"At least he deserved it," I responded sharply - about as sharply as I thought I could get away with.
"I'm pleased to hear that you implicitly acknowledge that I didn't," he said.
I thought about this then nodded. I even knew I was betraying Master's trust when I was stealing off him. I'd just somehow managed to justify it to myself, or at least I'd managed to convince myself that I'd get away with it.
As it turned out, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Then I told him about how I'd found a room in a cheap hotel. I'd tried to get a job but, for some reason, my big mouth and attitude made it a bit tricky to keep hold of one for any length of time.
Master smiled when I told him that but he didn't need to say anything. I already knew what he was thinking!
Then I explained how somebody had stolen the rest of my money. I couldn't go back home, of course, and the hotel was getting stressy about not being paid which was how I found myself sleeping in his dustbin shed.
By that stage, I was, of course, in helpless floods of tears so Master hauled me onto his lap and cuddled me for a long time.
When I had recovered enough to talk, he said that, if I wanted to tell him where my stepfather lived, then he would be found and have his kneecaps shattered. He'd never walk normally again.
I could imagine other people saying that sort of thing but they'd probably be smiling in some sort of way. But with Mr Terrifying, you just knew that, if that's what he said, that's what would happen.
I didn't know how I ought to feel about it so I asked him if I could think about it for a while.
I was about to ask him a question but then I realised that it might be against the rules.
But of course he noticed. "You may ask your question, Kitten," he told me, "but I don't promise to answer."
"Is it now alright for me to ask what you do?" I said cautiously. "I mean, I thought you worked in shipping goods. I don't really know anything about that sort of stuff but I really don't understand where all these broken kneecaps and missing fingers fit in."
His Imperial Bossiness chuckled and rubbed my hair. "That depends very much on what you are importing and exporting," he said.
"I'm sorry. I still don't understand."
He chuckled again then hugged me and kissed me on my forehead. "My delightfully sweet and innocent little kitten!" he said.
"Most of the work we do is entirely legitimate," he explained, "however, there is considerable profit to be made in shipping commodities that governments prefer to keep out of their countries."
I had a moment of sudden, awful insight. "You mean, like drugs?" What had I managed to get myself mixed up with? Whose bin store had I been sleeping in?
He didn't answer that but just smiled
"Operation in those sectors requires the use of... more casual shipping agents... whom it could prove difficult to pursue through the courts so those who do have to ensure that the price of betrayal is... unsupportable."
Hence, presumably, his familiarity with all the business of kneecaps and the removal of fingers. To confirm this, he took my left hand and kissed my little finger which still had a light dressing on it.
I suddenly felt very cold indeed but he must have seen this. "Please don't be frightened, Kitten," he reassured me. "Whilst my professional reputation depends on me being utterly ruthless with anyone who betrays me, it equally depends on me being completely honest and straightforward. You are never going to betray me again, are you, Kitten?"
I shook my head wordlessly. At that moment, I didn't think I was able to speak.
"So you are completely safe." He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead again. Then he looked me straight in the eye. "I will be exercising my considerable power and authority to ensure that you remain so."
Then I heard myself saying, "And, of course, that's why you couldn't tell me anything before." I was sort of thinking out loud.
"Correct. I didn't want to start frightening you by making threats but, until you understood the consequences of betrayal, I couldn't allow you any information of this sort."
"And you were never going to lie to me," I said as it all became clear.
"Correct again, Kitten. I will never lie to you."
As you can probably guess, that conversation left me even more determined to be a very good kitten indeed.
The next day was much the same except Herr Uberfussy had to lock me up in my little tiled room because his cleaning ladies were due to visit. To make up for this, he chose one of his books for me. It was a funny thing, relating to the psychology of management and business negotiations... not the sort of thing I'd have dreamt of reading in a million years... but compared to counting the number of tiles... by now I was pretty confident it was 522... it was fascinating.
And, gradually, I realised that some of the ideas in that book fitted with the funny sort of negotiations I was having with Mr Bossy... almost all without words.
And yes, I bet he already knew that!
As the days passed, I gradually started to feel more comfortable in my new situation and I was allowed to take over more of the day-to-day jobs around the flat. It says something about the boredom of my existence that I found myself looking forward to making breakfast or loading the dishwasher.
Then, one morning, as I was tidying up the kitchen after breakfast, I noticed that Master's coffee cup was still quarter full.
I thought about this as I cleared away the rest of the things.
I sort of wanted to ask him if I could but, with his stupid, 'Don't talk without permission' thing, I had no way of doing it. I was sure he wouldn't mind though... after all, he let me eat his leftovers...
I carefully avoided glancing round because I didn't want to look guilty. I wasn't guilty, I reassured myself. I wasn't doing anything wrong.
So I took a large gulp. And, even though it was stone cold, it was completely delicious. I'd not realised how much I'd been missing coffee.
But as I was emptying the dregs into the sink, I heard Master's voice summoning me up to his study.
My body obeyed without hesitation - I'd already learnt that lesson. I sort of turned numb as I trudged up the stairs because I knew what was coming.
"Bend over the desk," he told me. He wasn't even angry... more bored and irritated that I was making him do this.
And, even though it wasn't fair, I knew much better than to delay or complain. Only instant, unquestioning obedience would stop things from getting worse. But I still felt sort of dead and empty inside as I obeyed.
Swish... thwack... swish... thwack.
Knowing what was coming didn't make it hurt any less - quite the opposite, in fact. I had to blink away a tear, not just from the pain, though it hurt terribly, but from the unfairness too. I really would have asked him if I could.
"Tell me why you have just been punished," Master instructed me. His tone remained completely flat.
"I didn't think you'd mind me finishing off your coffee," I managed to answer though I was very close to tears.
At least it caused him to pause for a moment. "One time, and one time only, I am going to allow you to amend your answer," he told me at last. "And, just for your information, you will never be punished for what you think. You will only ever be punished for what you do."
I squished down my hurt and outrage because I knew they weren't going to do me any good. "I was punished for drinking your leftover coffee without permission," I answered in as flat a voice as I could manage.
"Correct," he replied. "Three if anything like this ever happens again."
"Yes, Master."
"You may carry on."
"Thank you, Master."
There were tears - not just of pain but of frustration - streaming down my face as I made my way back to the kitchen, rubbing my sore bottom.