After a while, she lifted her head, straining to hear something, anything, from beyond the closed closet door. All was silent.
The minutes slowly ticked by.
Where was he? He couldn’t possibly mean to leave her there all night.
Could he?
At least a half hour had passed, maybe longer. She was stiff and uncomfortable, the cage floor hard against her hip bone. Her hands had fallen asleep under her cheek. She shifted, groaning as she rolled awkwardly to her back. She drew up her knees in the cramped space, tears sliding into her hair.
Her body ached, her muscles cramping in the dark confines of her prison. She needed to pee. She was thirsty. A thin dribble of his ejaculate had dried on her inner thigh.
Maybe he’d accidentally fallen asleep.
She lifted her head, listening hard. Nothing.
“Master John?” she dared, her voice thin and reedy in her ears. She cleared her throat and tried again, louder this time. “Sir? Are you awake, Sir?”
She caught her breath at the sound of the pocket door sliding open. He had come back for her. Thank god.
Hurriedly, she shifted again, this time to her hands and knees so she’d be ready to crawl out when he opened the cage.
The light flicked on, blinding her for a moment. As she squinted through slitted eyelids, she saw Master John approaching, something clutched in his hand. She held her breath as she waited for him to release her.
He didn’t speak as he twirled the combination and pulled the lock free. When he opened the cage door, he didn’t move back, as she had expected, allowing her to crawl out. Instead, he held up what she now saw was a ball gag, along with her leather wrist cuffs.
Surely he couldn’t mean to—
Before she could even articulate the thought, much less squeak out a protest, he reached for her, pulling her forward just enough so he could shove the nasty rubber ball between her teeth. With quick hands, he buckled the offending thing behind her head.
Instinctively, she reached back, determined to remove the gag. But he was too fast for her. He gave her a push, causing her to fall over onto her side. Then he caught her wrists and wrenched her arms behind her back. Within seconds, he’d secured the cuffs and clipped them into place.
She lay awkwardly, drool already pooling in her mouth. “Wait,” she cried. “Please. Let me out. We need to talk.”
The words were garbled and mostly unintelligible behind the rubber ball that forced back her tongue. But surely, he understood their intent. When she had given him her submission, he had promised to keep her safe. But this didn’t feel safe at all. It felt downright dangerous.
He didn’t react to her obvious distress. Instead, he fixed her with a stern gaze, his eyes hard and glittering. The edge of a smile curved over his lips, as sharp as a blade. “I don’t know what the hell they did to you at that fucking place, but I’m going to undo the damage. I’ll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”
Chapter 11
Sudden light pulsed against Rowan’s eyelids. She moaned weakly against the gag as footsteps approached. She could hear Master John as he crouched and twirled the combination lock’s dial. She didn’t open her eyes as he yanked open the cage door. She didn’t move.
Strong hands slid beneath her body, pulling her out onto the closet carpet. Her body howled in pain as blood returned to muscles too long cramped in one position. Her arms were completely asleep, her bladder near to bursting.
Mercifully, he unbuckled the horrid ball gag and pulled it gently from her aching jaw. Her chin was sticky with dried saliva and her mouth felt like it was lined with clay. Her body remained curled in on itself, her hands clenched into fists behind her back.
Master John unclipped the cuffs and pulled Rowan up and into his arms. He rose to his feet, cradling her against his bare chest as he carried her out of the closet.
“All is forgiven, darling,” he said, nuzzling his face in her hair. “The slate is wiped clean. You took your punishment with grace and courage. I’m proud of you.”
Only a few days before, Rowan would have cried tears of gratitude that her Master had forgiven her, and all was now right with the world. But instead of taking joy in her Master’s approval, something hot and sour erupted inside her, rising in her throat and pulsing deep in her gut.
It took her a moment to identify the feeling—one she wasn’t used to permitting herself, not in her role as Master John’s slave girl.
Rage.
Raw, dark fury.
She kept her lips pressed together, afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she opened it.
He carried her straight through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He set her down gently, placing steadying hands on her shoulders as she swayed. With the tenderness of a father, he guided her gently into the toilet stall.