Page 9 of Married to My Master

“I said, do you understand me?”

She nodded more fervently. “Yes sir,” she said.

“Good.”

He turned and went back into the kitchen, headed for the mud room. He'd seen a dog collar and a chromed chain leash hanging there, but hadn't seen or heard the dog it belonged to since arriving. Also, on a shelf full of odds and ends, he'd seen some floral printed duct tape. He pulled both items down and headed back to the living room. On the way back, he took his suit jacket off and tossed it on a coat hook.

She hadn't moved an inch.

Collar and duct tape in hand, he walked back into the room. “Put your hair up,” he barked.

She looked at him, confused, then down at the dog collar and tape in one hand. She shook her head.

His hand shot out and grabbed her by the chin, squeezing her cheeks together. He leaned in and looked into her eyes. “Did I tell you to look at the collar or shake your head 'no?'” he growled. “Or did I tell you to lift your hair?”

“To lift my hair,” she said, a little whine of fear entering her voice.

“Good,” he said, releasing her. “Now do it.”

A visible shiver went through her body as she lifted her hair up and piled it around the back of her head. She closed her eyes, which he hadn’t ordered, but Dane let it slide this time.

He undid the collar and slipped it around her neck, letting the cold metal drop down between her breasts. “Where's the dog?” he asked.

“It's for when I dog-sit for my assistant,” she said quickly and honestly, her eyes open again.

He nodded, saying, “If you fight this, it'll just be worse. First, I'll make it hurt. Then, if you still won't walk, I'll make you crawl. And if you won't crawl, I'll drag you along the carpet. Do you understand me?”

She nodded again.

“Come on, then,” he said, then headed for the back of the house. He dragged her behind him, yanking hard on the leash.

She stumbled forward on her heels at the sudden jerk of the chain leash on her neck, and went crashing to the ground with a surprised scream.

Dane stopped in his tracks and turned around, lead firmly gripped in his hand. “Get up,” he said disdainfully, tugging at the chain.

She got to her hands and knees and looked up at him through her mussed bangs, her eyes shooting daggers his direction.

He couldn't help but think it was quite fetching, seeing her down on all fours like this. But, he reminded himself, that wasn't why he was here. He was here to demean and break her, not enjoy this for himself, no matter how tempting that was after his long drought. “Get up!” he shouted again.

She slowly rose to her feet, a look of resentment mixed with fear in her eyes. Her wobbling lip had returned, her chin wasn't as highly held as before, and her knees were scuffed and bright red with rug burn. She came along with him, though, trudging behind him as he headed back to her bedroom.

“Which room is yours?” he asked, as wrapped the chain around his hand a second time, tightening his grip on it. There was no way she was going to get away from him. Not till he was done with her, at least.

“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpered.

He whipped around. “What did you say to me?”

“I-I-I asked what you were going to do to me.”

“And I asked,” he said, as he slowly wrapped the chain leash tighter around his hand, dragging her closer with each shortening of the leash, till his hand was right at her throat, directing her face up to his, “Which room is your bedroom.”

She whimpered again and averted her eyes, that lower lip quivering like a leaf in the wind. “Last door on the right,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” he said, dropping the chain and letting it flow off his hand, back to its normal length. He turned and pulled her along, more gently this time. He strode down the hall, forcing her to keep up behind him in just her thigh highs and heels. He threw open the door and went inside.

The center of the room was dominated by a giant four-poster bed made from heavy, durable wood. The comforter looked thick, inviting, and expensive. The drapes were open, letting the light in, and allowing them to look out over Emily's backyard.

She'd done pretty well for herself over the years, Dane mused. No wonder she'd been so firm with him back in the parking garage. She was used to being successful and to having the world start, stop, and form holding patterns around her. Things were going to change, of course. Maybe he was getting that through to her already.

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