bed.
“This is a nice place you have, Gilbert. Have you been here long?” He could hear the saccharine in her tone. He wanted to strike her.
“No questions. I'm already reconsidering about letting you out here, so just keep a lid on it, all right?” Lisa bit her lip and turned away.
Chapter 7
Dinner was a silent affair. Gilbert seemed disgruntled and out of sorts. Lisa didn’t dare to say a word. She ate as much as she could, not knowing when her next meal would come. The only beverage offered was beer, and she had two cans, which went straight to her head.
Too full, and dizzy, she wanted to crawl back to her own bed and go back to sleep. She'd taken to sleeping a lot, since there was nothing else to do when she was locked away in the dark. And it saved her from thinking too much. From missing her family and feeling so afraid she sometimes thought she would literally lose her mind.
She thought she should be doing exercises or something, to pass the time and stay in shape, but meals were so sporadic, and she was always so hungry, she decided instead to conserve what energy she could.
But now she was out of the room! That had been her focus for several days. To convince him of her trustworthiness. To make him think she was falling for his sadistic, fucked-up training techniques, and coming to revel in her own submission. Each little ounce of additional freedom was a tiny step, she prayed, toward escape.
It helped that she had corresponded so much with Master John. She had some insight into his mindset, into his sensibility regarding submission and sexual slavery. She tried to remember and to play into that romantic ideal with him, even though the real man, Gilbert Whoever, was so far from that ideal it was pathetic.
She obsessed endlessly over her online affair with the nonexistent John Anderson. How could he have reeled her in so completely? She'd bought it all – the photo of the handsome man, his modest insistence that they explore her sensuality together, that they never speak of meeting, since that might hinder her free exploration. What a crock. What a bastard.
What hurt even more was realizing how misguided she had been to imagine she had really been in love with Master John. Now she knew she'd been in love with an illusion. With an amalgamation of stolen chapters out of D/s books, stolen photos and stolen dreams.
Gilbert Fuckwad was a thief, not only of her body, but of her heart. She had it back, though, make no mistake. She'd buried Master John and though she mourned the passing in a wistful sort of way, it was foolish to rue the loss of what she now realized had never existed. Gilbert hadn't been lying when he'd said Master John was a dream.
And Gilbert was the nightmare.
They finished the last of the pizza and Gilbert said, “Let's watch some TV. I think there's a game on.” He stood and she did too, following him into the living room. He sat on the couch. Lisa started to sit next to him, keenly aware of her own nakedness, wishing she were clothed. Gilbert hardly seemed to notice her. He was turning the channels on the old TV and then he sat back, satisfied with the football game he'd discovered.
“No.” He held his hand palm up toward Lisa as she moved to join him. “You don't sit on the couch. You've had quite enough privilege for one day! You will be my footstool. That will help send you back to that submissive space where you belong, my love. Go on, that's it. Get down on your hands and knees and stay very still. I want a steady footrest.”
Lisa stared at him, trying to force her face into neutral acceptance. Damn, she had thought it was going so well. He had let her out. He had let her eat at the table with him, instead of at his feet. But now he was ordering her to crouch in front of his nasty old couch so he could put his feet on her bare back.
Feeling full for the first time in a while, and out of the little prison, Lisa felt some of her old natural fire coming back to her.
“This is a nice place you have, Gilbert. Have you been here long?” He could hear the saccharine in her tone. He wanted to strike her.
“No questions. I'm already reconsidering about letting you out here, so just keep a lid on it, all right?” Lisa bit her lip and turned away.
Chapter 7
Dinner was a silent affair. Gilbert seemed disgruntled and out of sorts. Lisa didn’t dare to say a word. She ate as much as she could, not knowing when her next meal would come. The only beverage offered was beer, and she had two cans, which went straight to her head.
Too full, and dizzy, she wanted to crawl back to her own bed and go back to sleep. She'd taken to sleeping a lot, since there was nothing else to do when she was locked away in the dark. And it saved her from thinking too much. From missing her family and feeling so afraid she sometimes thought she would literally lose her mind.
She thought she should be doing exercises or something, to pass the time and stay in shape, but meals were so sporadic, and she was always so hungry, she decided instead to conserve what energy she could.
But now she was out of the room! That had been her focus for several days. To convince him of her trustworthiness. To make him think she was falling for his sadistic, fucked-up training techniques, and coming to revel in her own submission. Each little ounce of additional freedom was a tiny step, she prayed, toward escape.
It helped that she had corresponded so much with Master John. She had some insight into his mindset, into his sensibility regarding submission and sexual slavery. She tried to remember and to play into that romantic ideal with him, even though the real man, Gilbert Whoever, was so far from that ideal it was pathetic.
She obsessed endlessly over her online affair with the nonexistent John Anderson. How could he have reeled her in so completely? She'd bought it all – the photo of the handsome man, his modest insistence that they explore her sensuality together, that they never speak of meeting, since that might hinder her free exploration. What a crock. What a bastard.
What hurt even more was realizing how misguided she had been to imagine she had really been in love with Master John. Now she knew she'd been in love with an illusion. With an amalgamation of stolen chapters out of D/s books, stolen photos and stolen dreams.
Gilbert Fuckwad was a thief, not only of her body, but of her heart. She had it back, though, make no mistake. She'd buried Master John and though she mourned the passing in a wistful sort of way, it was foolish to rue the loss of what she now realized had never existed. Gilbert hadn't been lying when he'd said Master John was a dream.
And Gilbert was the nightmare.
They finished the last of the pizza and Gilbert said, “Let's watch some TV. I think there's a game on.” He stood and she did too, following him into the living room. He sat on the couch. Lisa started to sit next to him, keenly aware of her own nakedness, wishing she were clothed. Gilbert hardly seemed to notice her. He was turning the channels on the old TV and then he sat back, satisfied with the football game he'd discovered.
“No.” He held his hand palm up toward Lisa as she moved to join him. “You don't sit on the couch. You've had quite enough privilege for one day! You will be my footstool. That will help send you back to that submissive space where you belong, my love. Go on, that's it. Get down on your hands and knees and stay very still. I want a steady footrest.”
Lisa stared at him, trying to force her face into neutral acceptance. Damn, she had thought it was going so well. He had let her out. He had let her eat at the table with him, instead of at his feet. But now he was ordering her to crouch in front of his nasty old couch so he could put his feet on her bare back.
Feeling full for the first time in a while, and out of the little prison, Lisa felt some of her old natural fire coming back to her.
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