Page 19 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

Because why else would he have on a blue gingham shirt, khaki pants, and a Patagonia vest. Rage gives me an annoying smirk. He might clean up just fine, but I can still see his hand tattoos and other signs of his true thuggishness.

"I came to take your breakfast order," he says. "And to deliver your first spanking."

I fight the urge to throw my body at the bars like a rabid chimpanzee and spit at him. I glare and push my tongue into the corners of my cheeks to stop myself. Every inch of my jaw hurts from the anxiety I experienced throughout the night. Spanking? This man is out of his mind.

"If you don't submit to your first spanking, you won't get breakfast. That should make it easier."

He ignores me glaring daggers at him and unlocks the padlocked door instead. The man has a full blown jail cell installed in his basement. That shit is not normal. I curl my legs up against my body, preparing for the worst when he enters my cell. He glances over at the disgusting metal pot as if he genuinely expected me to piss and shit in that.

"Come here," he says, standing a few feet away from thebed and looking me over again. I feel like a mess and I might not smell like piss and shit, but I definitely stink. I need a real shower, not a spanking and breakfast.

I also have to show this man some defiance.

"You must not be hungry," he says calmly. "I won't be back for another twelve hours. The faster you do this, the faster I get it over with."

"I'm not hungry."

I watch rage flicker across his face and feel a smug sense of satisfaction. He bites down on his lower lip.

"I'm keeping you here for twelve days like I promised. You can get your spanking now or a worse one later."

I just glare at him.

"Fine," he says. "If you go hungry, that won't bother me in the slightest."

But obviously, it bothers him. His face turns red as he leaves the cell and slips the padlock on to the door. Rage turns his grey eyes towards me one last time. But he leaves. I feel like an idiot once I hear him close the door to the basement.

Twelve more hours without food to prove a point. I must be out of my mind. I clutch my stomach and roll back onto the bed. Nothing but my own hungry ass thoughts for twelve hours.

Ugh.

The waiting sucks, but I eventually get tired enough to fall asleep again. I wake up every hour or so and freak out at my surroundings. I can't imagine "getting used to" a cell, so I guess it makes sense that every time I take in my surroundings, I freak the hell out.

When I hear footsteps again upstairs, I freak out because it feels more like days passed instead of just half of one. Ifthat was twelve hours, I don't know how the hell I'll make it through all of Rage's punishment.

I'm so hungry that my stomach feels like it's eating itself. I know logically, that can't be the case, but that's the amount of pure pain I'm in. I lay back on the bed, listening to the sound of Rage's footsteps because it's the only different thing I have in this cell. He needs to at least get me some channels down here...

This is torture.

I hear the basement door open and find my body too weak to move into any type of adversarial position. Maybe he'll think I'm dead and leave me by the side of the road. Preferably near some type of fast food place.

Rage's slow, steady footsteps approach my prison. He's not alone. I can smell it. This man brought food. My nostrils perk up and twitch a little bit as the mixture of flavors fills the basement. Saliva pools in the corners of my mouth. I am so damn hungry. But I keep my eyes closed. Mostly due to exhaustion, but partly because I don't want this to be too easy on Rage.

"I brought you a plate."

Yeah. I can smell it. Gravy. Mashed potatoes. Some type of meat.

"You have to sit up to eat it."

He unlocks the padlock with one hand and when he steps inside my cell, close enough that my body can't ignore the food smell, I open my eyes. Rage is standing there with this food -- glaring at me.

I reflect his anger as I sit up, pretending not to give a shit.

"I won't have you starving," he says. "Or dying on me. So eat. I won't leave until you finish."

"You're just going to stand thereand watch me eat?"

"Yes," he says. "Which means untying your binds. You're welcome."

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