I watch him with no small amount of apprehension, my thighs pressed tightly together, wondering if I piss myself, he won’t want to rape me. He opens a tarnished, amber-colored jar, taking the matching measuring cup hanging off the side and digging it in. With a long, slender finger, he levels the rice in the cup, regarding it with stoney precision before walking back over to me.

I flinch as he kneels in front of me, spilling the small cup of rice on the floor at my feet. “Kneel.”

“What?”

“Do not askwhat. If you are confused about an instruction, you may say as much.”

“I-I’m confused, Master.”

He sighs as he goes back to his seat at the desk. “You are being punished. You will kneel on the rice until I am finished.”

I nod, my stomach churning. “Yes, Sir. W-what have I done?” I ask quietly before quickly adding. “So I don’t disappoint you again.”

“Gooddogs do not go around wagging their tails for other masters,” he offers as he refocuses on the work at his desk.

Dogs? I’m being punished for…smilingat Stuart?

“I’m sorry, Master.” I stare at the scattered rice on the floor, a glimpse of him at the party, the women with the collars flooding my mind. As he types, I lift my head, sneaking a peek at him from under my lashes. How hadn’t I remembered? My lips part as I think of the way he stroked his cock for me, how I wantonly came, how I savored the flavor of him in my mouth. My cheeks heat further as I refocus on the rice. Each second that passes, the dry grains seem to wiggle their way deeper into my skin. He pays me no attention as I focus on being as still as possible. My aching, overfull bladder offers an unexpected distraction from the rice. I’m grateful. I can’t imagine the ways he might strive to make this more uncomfortable if he noticed the tears working their way down my cheeks. Out of the punishments I’m used to, this is nothing. Still, something feels different about it, more calculated than the prod or a violent fuck.

My entire body aches. Exhaustion has long since wormed its way into my bones. Time passes…slowly. Sometimes, Master gets up to do something out of my line of sight. I do my best not to let my attention wander. The sun is no longer shining directly in the windows by the time the pressure in my bladder and the bite of the rice makes me nauseous. His work shows no sign of slowing, despite it being afternoon. Eventually, discomfort wins out against my embarrassment.

“Master?”

“Yes, dog?”

I swallow hard. “I-I need to use the bathroom. Please.”

If I can even make it.

“I know. Perhaps next time, you’ll be honest about your needs. I will tolerate no half-truths or secrets from you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words leave me in a whimper as I tighten my legs, a tiny leak escaping me.

A knock comes at the door, breaking my concentration.

“Come in.”

“Your afternoon coffee. Would you like me to bring your lunch as well?” A woman asks from behind me, her footsteps light on the wooden floor.

“Only coffee for now, thank you. Please leave the tray. I will help myself.”

She pauses for a second before clearing off a miniature section of a now-cluttered desk and quickly leaving. My fists clench the fabric of my dress, hiking it up to above mid-thigh, trying to keep my breathing deep as he grabs the coffee cup and the heated thermos, walking over to me with lethal, measured steps.

“Pour this for me.”

I grit my teeth, irritation flooding me for a fleeting second. He's beingmean. I’d rather he just hit me and let me use the bathroom at this point. “Yes, Master.”

I hiss in pain as I shift to grab the thermos, taking care to pour it into the cup for him. The trickle of the coffee seems to be the final straw, the smell a tease, making my mouth water despite being in agony. I wait until he's seated again to speak. “Sir?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think I can hold it anymore.”

He peeks up at me, taking a long drink of coffee. “Some things can’t be helped.”

“I will have an accident, Sir,” I whisper, despite knowing, even if he let me up now, it wouldn’t make a difference.

“That’s unfortunate.”