Page 28 of Savage

I’ve thought of nothing but him all day.

I’ve dreamed of nothing but him, too.

When the door finally does click open and Hunter enters, my mouth goes dry. He’s freshly showered, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that cling to his body. He’s barefoot again, which still strikes me as so at odds with what little I know about Hunter Savage.

I get out of bed, not sure what to do with myself, and bow my head. “Hi… Master,” I mumble awkwardly.

“Hello.” Hunter sighs a little, and I don’t know what to make of that. Then he points at his feet. “Kiss my feet, and thank me for taking you in.”

I blink at him, and it takes me a moment to comprehend the words. He wants me to do that again? I just did it yesterday. But the way he’s looking at me, so expectant, so unyielding, tells me he’s not going to wait long before moving into punishment mode.

I slowly get down to my knees in front of him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of each foot before I murmur, “Thank you for taking me in, M-master.”

“Good girl.” He reaches down to pat my hair. “You’ll be doing that every day from now on.”

I stare down at his feet, trying to pretend it doesn’t feel so good to be petted, to be praised. “Yes, sir… Master,” I amend before he has to correct me.

My stomach makes a loud growling noise, and I blush, but it’s not my fault he only left me water and a few small snacks to get me through the day. At least he hadn’t chained me to the bed this time, and I’d been able to go to the bathroom when I’d needed to. It’s one more freedom, and the sign of more to come, right?

“I brought food. You may get up and follow me.” Hunter doesn’t wait for me to actually obey the order. He just turns around and leaves.

I get up quickly and head out of the room before I can be locked inside again, following him into the kitchen. The smell of food makes my stomach grumble again, and I touch it, willing it into silence. It’s strange having an appetite again. At Ntimacy, I almost never got hungry, but now that Hunter has forced me off of the drugs, I’m hungry all the time.

I feel a pang of need, one I’ve had to push away several times during the course of the day. He’s not going to give me anything, especially now that he’s brutally pushed me through withdrawal hell. But I want it. I’d rather have drugs over food, even though I keep my mouth shut about it.

Hunter sits down at the head of the table and motions next to his chair. “Sit here.”

“Where?” I ask, balking a little. “On the floor?”

“Yes, on the floor, Stef.” He makes one of his disappointed noises, which are starting to get too familiar. “Never mind.”

“Wait,” I start to say, but he gives me a look and I immediately shrink back. I should’ve just gotten on the fucking floor.

Hunter gets up, says, “Stay,” then goes to his bedroom. When he returns, he has cuffs and a collar in hand.

It’s not the same collar as yesterday, when he’d let me sleep on the bed with him. This collar looks a lot scarier, far wider and thicker. I instinctively shake my head when I see it, even though I know the last thing I need to be doing is refusing him again.

“Sit on this chair,” Hunter says, pointing to the one adjacent to where he’d been.

At least it’s a chair and not the floor. Maybe he’s just giving me a second chance to obey. I sit down, still conscious of my nudity and wondering if it might’ve been better to kneel on the floor than sit bare-assed on the chair.

Without saying a word, Hunter takes one of my arms and lays it on the armrest—then cuffs my hand to it. I pull instinctively, but I only have an inch or two of leeway. There’s no way I can use this hand to eat.

Hunter picks up my second hand.

“Wait—” I start to say.

“Quiet,” Hunter orders, cutting me off. “You didn’t want to sit on the floor.” He cuffs that hand to the chair, too, and now I have no way of picking up a fork at all, or even getting out of the chair.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll sit on the floor—” This time, I cut myself off, because it’s not going to make a difference and I know it. I slump a little, watching him warily as he approaches with that thick collar.

Hunter places it around my neck, forcing me to look up and stare forward, and buckles it securely. I swallow hard as I realize the size of the collar means I can barely move my neck at all anymore.

He steps back and observes me for a second, then takes the chair and angles it so it’s facing his.

“Ah,” he says. “One more thing.” He goes back to his bedroom, and I tremble with dread. What’s he going to come up with next?

When he returns, my eyes widen. He’s holding a dildo, and the end of it has a suction cup. He taps the inside of my ankle with his bare foot and says, “Spread and lift up.”

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