I nod slowly, my eyes locked onto his.
“Yes. Master.”
“Good girl.”
He plants a kiss on my forehead before he retreats, pinching my left nipple between two fingers, pinching it so hard that I jerk up in pain. He holds on to it, squeezing and pulling while he observes the contortions on my face as I process the taste of anguish he’s giving me.
A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, laced with sadistic satisfaction at my discomfort. I sigh with relief when he lets go of me, staying behind with a bewildering throbbing spreading throughout my core. It’s like that every time. Every time he comes close to me, every time he looks at me, every time he touches me. Every single time he finds just the right switch to turn me into this needy mess, only craving for him to do it again, while my previous contemplation is cut short.
There’s yearning in my eyes when I watch him walk back to the kitchen, and it overshadows everything else I might have been feeling since we came down here.
But only as long as I let it. And as soon as I fight my way out of his mental grip, I’m confronted with the same eerie feeling that washed over me when I first set foot on the first floor.
That feeling of familiarity. It’s even stronger here in this room, almost hitting me with the force of déjà vu.
I have been here before.
Something happened in this room. I don’t know if it was something good or bad.
But I know it was turbulent.