Page 45 of Silver

On your knees, whore.

Arms behind your back, whore.

What the fuck are you doing sleeping in your car, whore?

You need to find a place to live, whore.

I know who you are, whore.

Lock your doors, whore.

I shudder, trying to shake the sheer panic I’d felt that night. I’m safe now. Whoever that was can’t get to me. I may be a prisoner in Silver’s home, but that’s better than taking my chances on the street. I was losing sleep from constantly worrying about that asshole.

I shake myself. This is batshit. There is no way I can justify staying here. I’m losing myself. I’m losing my self-worth. The longer I allow myself to be Silver’s hostage, the harder it will be to extricate myself from his clutches.

I just have to get through tonight and tomorrow. I have to convince him I’m totally on board with the life he’s grooming me for. It’s the only way he’ll let me go to class on Monday. And it’s crucial that I leave this hellhole and make a run for it.

The door to the bedroom opens, jarring me back to the present. My stomach growls at the scent of Italian tomato sauce, and I look up to see Silver holding a large plate covered with foil.

My mouth waters. I’ve eaten better today than I have in weeks. At this rate, I’ll gain back any weight I’ve lost since I moved here. Regular, nutritious meals are so alluring that a part of me prefers to continue getting them at any cost to my soul.

I lick my lips, anticipation making me salivate.

Silver sits in the chair next to where I’m kneeling. He scoots it as close to me as he can, turning to face me directly. Parting his knees, he arranges himself so that I’m facing his crotch. When he’s satisfied, he takes the leash from my outstretched hands, and uses a carabiner to clip the middle of it to the front loop on his jeans. He doesn’t leave me enough give, so I’m forced to lean forward slightly. It’s awkward, and I must look ridiculous.

Fearing for my balance, I reach out and brace myself against his thigh.

“Hands behind your back,” he barks.

I rush to obey him. It’s difficult.

“Good girl,” he praises in that tone that makes me wet every time. He even strokes the top of my head, smoothing my hair back. “Today has been unusual. You need routine. Something you can anticipate and count on. In the evenings, I will feed you like this. Tomorrow morning, we’ll begin what will become your everyday schedule. It will comfort you to know what to expect.”

“Yes, Sir,” I mumble.

He takes the foil off the plate. There’s only one plate, but I can see in my peripheral vision that it contains enough food for both of us.

Silver scoots his chair another inch or two forward, easing the pressure on my back, allowing me to kneel slightly more upright. “How’s that, precious? Better?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

He reaches out and toys with my breasts. “I like you in this position. Your tits are so delightful. My mouth waters when they hang forward like this.”

My breath hitches when he strokes my nipples, keeping them hard. He’s a master at forcing me to remain aroused.

With one hand gently cupping my breast, he turns and scoops food on his fork before bringing it to my mouth. “Lasagna, precious girl. Dante cooked tonight. He’s a god with Italian food.”

I open my mouth and accept the bite. The flavors burst on my tongue, and I moan as I chew and swallow. All his training caused me to work up an appetite, even though he also fed me well all day.

Next, he offers me a forkful of salad, though offer isn’t probably the right word. I doubt I have a choice here. I wouldn’t dare deny him.

Silver switches back and forth between salad and lasagna, feeding me, while I maintain the extremely awkward position with my hands clasped behind my back, my breasts swaying, and him occasionally touching my nipples.

After every few bites, he holds an insulated cup up for me to suck water through the straw. It’s the same kind as the one he put on my desk earlier. Spill-proof. The water is cold and goes down nicely. He hasn’t offered me any other beverages today.

When I’m stuffed, I glance up at him, hoping I’m allowed to tell him when I’m done. “I’m full, Sir.”

He smiles as he sets the fork down. “Good girl. Are you ready for your next lesson?”