It was just another sign that they were made for each other—he had honed in on her secret fear, and wasn’t afraid to capitalize on it—for her own good, of course. She had to be punished for her misbehavior or she would never learn. She needed to understand that his word was law.
She had stopped her whimpering. Maybe she had fallen asleep, the poor dear—she had to be exhausted. Mark closed his eyes and drifted in and out of a doze. When he awoke, the sun was already setting outside the window. He must have been worn out from all the excitement of the past few days.
There was still no sound from the closet. He would let her out soon. Getting to his feet, he went into the kitchen to make his girl something substantial to eat. He couldn’t have her passing out on him because of no food, nor did he want to starve her to death.
He cooked a steak and fried some potatoes, the delicious smells awakening his appetite. Leaving the food on the stove, he returned to the bedroom closet and pulled open the doors. Flicking on the light, he peered down at the girl curled in the small space, her hair obscuring her face.
As he crouched down in front of the cage, she moaned and lifted her head. “Please,” she croaked. “Please let me out.”
Tenderness surged through Mark’s heart. She looked so pathetic, her large eyes pleading. She’d been punished enough, for now. He quickly unlocked the padlock and opened the small door. He helped her as she maneuvered her way out of the confines of the metal cage and rose unsteadily to her feet.
He took the leash from the hook where he’d left it and attached it to her collar. “Are you ready to behave, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied obediently.
A thrill shot through him. “Good girl. I’ve made you some food.”
He led her to the kitchen, moving slowly so she could keep up without stumbling. When she attempted to take a seat at the table, he pulled her leash gently downward. “Have you forgotten? Slave girls don’t sit on furniture. You kneel at your Master’s feet.”
She didn’t protest, but sank to the cushion he’d thoughtfully placed on the floor beside his chair.
He wrapped the end of the leash around the back of his chair. “Put your hands behind your back,” he instructed as he took the wrist chain from his pocket. Moving behind her, he clipped her bracelets together.
“Please,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I’m so hungry. How can I eat if my wrists are cuffed?”
“I’m going to feed you, cunt girl,” he replied, amused at her wince, which he assumed was because of her new pet name.
He slid the steak and mound of fried potatoes onto a plate and brought it to the table. Returning to the counter, he took out a glass and filled it with water from the tap. Taking his seat at the table, he cut a small piece of the meat and held it to her lips.
Alana opened her mouth like a baby bird and eagerly accepted the morsel. Chewing quickly, she opened her mouth again.
Mark didn’t speak as he fed his slave girl. He felt at once powerful and benevolent. He literally held this creature’s life in his hands. For a moment, Mark stopped feeding her as he marveled anew at her beauty. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, but that just added to her wanton, wild look. With the heavy collar above her bare, beautiful breasts, she was like a barely tamed animal.
And she belonged to him!
With great self-control, he resisted the impulse to throw her down and fuck her right there on the kitchen floor. There would be time, plenty of time, he reminded himself.
He ate the food along with her, alternating bites between them, and sharing the water. When they’d finished the food, he brought over a small wine glass and a bottle of his favorite port. He poured a generous serving into the glass and inhaled its sweet aroma.
He took a sip and held it to Alana’s lips. “This is an excellent port. Have some.”
Alana sipped. Mark took another swallow, and let her sip some more. “I’m very pleased with you, cunt girl. You’ve made a lot of progress in just one day. You have the potential to become a worthy slave. I know you aren’t here of your own free will. I’m not stupid enough to think you’re obeying at this point for any reason other than you have no choice in the matter. Still, you are behaving well, even as a prisoner.”
She said nothing to this, and he quashed his slight irritation that she hadn’t responded positively to his praise.
Getting to his feet, he unwound the leash from the chair and gave it a tug. “Stand up,” he commanded tersely. “I want to see your body.”