Page 72 of Violent Cravings

"Thank you, master."

I hesitate for a moment. I want to share my thoughts with him, but suddenly I feel shy about it. He might think I'm an idiot for feeling the way I feel. It sounds silly in my head, and it doesn't sound a lot better when I finally summon the courage to speak.

"I feel different," I utter, biting my lower lip as if to stop myself from saying anything more.

"Different how?"

"Hard to say," I murmur. "New, somehow. Like I've grown? Or changed? Something is different. I feel like something broke inside of me, and then it was put back together, but with like... stronger glue?"

I cast him a coy look and can't help but try to cover the implication of my words with a laugh.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm crazy."

I try to lower my eyes away from his fixated stare, but he stops me by placing his finger beneath my chin.

"No," he says, his gaze serious as he looks at me. "I don't think you're crazy. I understand what you're saying."

"You do?"

He nods.

"You went through something very challenging, confusing, new. It was tough, and it took a lot out of you," he says. "I'm sure it was overwhelming. I was there, I saw you experience it. I was the one who made it happen, doll. You're not crazy. You just learned something new about yourself."

I smile at him as his words wash over me with a comforting warmth. I've never felt so understood by anyone before. This man can see right through me. He likes whatever it is that he sees hidden behind the walls I’ve built up, the walls no one has ever been able to break down before. He knows me, and he understands me.

How am I ever going to go back to my old life? If anything, he's made it even harder now.

"I wish I could stay," I breathe, choking as I suppress the tears that threaten to emerge at the memory of our arrangement.

He creases his eyebrows, casting me a dark look, but he doesn't say a word. No warning, no reminder of never mentioning the reality of our situation.

"How long do we have left?" I ask, realizing that the question is a breach of our agreement.

He lets go of me in an instant, rolling to the other side and getting off the bed in a hurry. My heart sinks as I watch him walk to the door in wide, angry steps.

"Master, I'm sorry!" I cry out, bobbing up from the bed. "I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have-"

I don’t get to finish. I'm interrupted by the harsh sound of the door slamming shut behind him.

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