Page 90 of Savage

Is that an answer? An explanation? Either way, though, I feel just the smallest bit better.

“I don’t…” I trail off, not sure how to put my thoughts into words. “I don’t know what that means yet, Master.” I rest my cheek against his leg, and the feeling of his fingers smoothing through my hair brings me a moment of bliss I don’t understand.

I know who he is—what he is—but it’s hard to remember that right now.

“It means that you’re mine,” Hunter repeats, like it’s an actual answer. He keeps petting me, and the tingles in my scalp are stronger than the dull pain in my wrists.

I close my eyes and sigh. I could stay like this forever.

Except that the silence starts whispering to me, little words reminding me that this isn’t going to last, that I’m just a whore, that he’ll get bored of me and throw me away and…

The tears at the corners of my eyes threaten to fall, and I repeat to myself that I shouldn’t cry. He’s reassuring me, over and over, and it feels like I’d be slapping him in the face if I refused to accept his reassurance.

But I’m Stef the crybaby, and I can’t just accept what he’s saying.

“I need… I need…”

Proof.

But I don’t know how to say that.

“I need you,” I finally whisper.

His hand on my head stills, and I tense, afraid I’ve fucked up yet again. I look up fearfully, but he isn’t scowling.

“Get up,” he orders, and I immediately obey. “Go to the bedroom. Undress, and kneel in front of the bed.”

I hiccup as I try to hold back the sobs, but I hurry to go to the bedroom. I have to fumble a little to get the clothes off, but in the end, I fold them carefully and set them at the foot of the bed before kneeling down and bowing my head.

I don’t want to ruin what was a good day by being punished, but I need something.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” Hunter asks as he returns. He’s holding a bag of some sort, large enough that I’m worried about what it could contain.

I force myself to focus on his question. “I did. Thank you for taking me to the museum, Master.”

It was a nice outing. It was nicer than anything I’d ever done with Dylan, and Dylan and I had been together for years. I tug at the edges of my bandages, wondering what it would take to get my nails through the fabric and—

“Stop fidgeting,” Hunter says sternly. “You were so good today. But you’ve forgotten that you’re meant to only think about me, and not anyone else.”

My chest squeezes tight, and I shake my head. “No, Master. I haven’t. Please—”

He approaches me and makes that hand gesture he always does when he wants me to be quiet. I quickly press my lips together.

Hunter squats down in front of me and cards his fingers through my hair again. I sigh, some of the tension easing away again.

Why can’t I just forget about the rest of the world? It really would be easier if I could simply focus on Hunter all the time.

“Open your mouth, and keep it open,” Hunter orders.

I obey, although my heart pounds in anticipation. I watch as he pulls something out of the bag, a strange device that I can’t figure out at first glance.

I accidentally lean back when he raises it up to my mouth.

Hunter frowns at me. “Stef.”

“Sorry, Master,” I whisper, straightening my back and opening my mouth wider.

It’s a gag, only instead of a ball or penis, it has a big ring that forces my mouth to stay open. I shudder as he fastens it around my head and make an embarrassing noise. I’m suddenly self-conscious of my tongue and how it’s just… there, and my face heats in embarrassment.

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