Page 13 of His Captive

“Please.”

“Good… Then come to me.” He flicks up his head slightly, gesturing for me to move toward him. I weigh up my options, and in the end leave my self-respect behind, stand up, and start to walk to him.

“Nah-ah.” His head shakes. “Get on the table.”

I freeze. Did I hear him correctly?

“I don’t like to ask twice Lysa,” he warns impatiently.

Lysa?

“Get on the table, on to your hands and knees.”

I swallow down all my resistance and think of the food. Then reluctantly do as he asks. Lifting my knees and resting my palms on to the table. I pray no one will come into the room and catch me humiliating myself.

“Now crawl to me,” he orders, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, while his index finger strokes along his bottom lip. Stone hard eyes set on me, his face is serious, but I detect a smirk as I start crawling along the table toward him. I make sure I keep eye contact the whole time. If my humiliation is what he wants so badly, I’ll let him take it.

There’s something in his look and the way he watches me that actually makes me feel powerful.

It wills me to please him and that’s what keeps me crawling toward him. That, and the secret hope that maybe, when I finally get to him, he might touch me again.

God I’m pitiful.

I get closer, close enough to smell him, his cologne filling my airways and rushing straight to my head.

“If you want to eat, you’re going to have to earn it,” he tells me, lips straight, and eyes focused.

“I won’t fuck you,” I tell him.

He surprises me when he chokes out a smug laugh.

The arrogant asshole laughs at me and I hate how much it stings.

“I don’t force women to fuck me, Lysetta.” He shakes his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips as he leans close enough to whisper, “I don’t have to.”

I believe him.

“What do you want me to do then?” I ask feeling nervous, all my confidence suddenly knocked out of me by his mocking.

“What I want is for you to stop asking questions, and to do as I tell you. Do that and I let you eat. Do it well and I might consider upgrading your room. Sound good?”

Quite honestly, I’d kiss the ground beneath his feet if it meant I didn’t have to spend another night in that basement.

“Sounds good,” I agree.

“Ok… you can start by lifting your skirt up over your hips,” he instructs.

“What?”

“That was a question Lysa,” he warns.

Lysa. I like it, no one has ever called me that before, and the fact he’s taken the time to make it up for me makes me feel special.

“But…” I hesitate.

“Stand up on your feet, and lift your skirt up over your hips,” he orders impatiently.

So, I huff out a breath, roll my eyes and stand up on the table.

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