I pull my knees up and curl into the chair, watching Xavier as he pulls a small kitchen towel out of one of the drawers and runs warm water over it from the tap. Then, without a word, he comes back to me and washes my face. The rag is warm as he scrubs in long strokes from my cheeks down over my neck to my throat. His motions are slow and unhurried. Soothing even.
He finishes quickly. Then he silently fires up the gas stove and pulls eggs and bacon out of the fridge. He fries the bacon first and it smells so good that it makes my empty stomach cramp. I briefly wonder why he’s making breakfast food even though it’s almost nighttime.
Xavier still seems perfectly at ease, though, pulling the bacon out of the pan with a fork and then cracking eggs into the sizzling grease without looking over at me once. He washes his hands while the eggs cook then flips them with the fork at the end to scramble them. He piles them onto two plates and peels a couple of tangerines before setting the plates at the head of the table. Guess it’s breakfast for dinner tonight. Apart from the tangerines substituted for pancakes, it’s the same meal I refused that first morning.
Only once he’s set the plates down does he look my way again.
Maybe he’ll let it slide tonight because I’m so tired and I can just eat my food like a normal person? We can start up the whole charade tomorrow and—
Then I see him retrieve a large square pillow from inside the bottom cupboard and lay it on the ground beside his chair.
Or not.
He comes over to me and reaches both hands out. I’m not sure if it’s better or worse when he doesn’t just manhandle me. Holding his hands out to me like this, it’s a request to do what he wants. Like I can choose to obey or not.
But no, my foggy food-deprived brain tries to remind me—appearing to comply on the outside doesn’t mean that I’m actually giving in. I’m just being smart and getting some goddamned sustenance.
There’s no point in starving.
Or spending another night out in the shed.
I drop my feet to the ground, lift my weary arms, and grasp his big hands. He hefts me to my feet and wraps a sturdy arm around my waist as he leads me over to the pillow beside his chair, where he helps me lower to my knees.
Again, everything in me rebels. Except my stomach. My empty stomach is very on board with whatever will get it food the fastest.
I crouch down on the little pillow, jaw tight.
I’ll do this but it doesn’t have to mean I like it.
I arrange myself on my knees and Xavier’s hands immediately press on my shoulders so that I’m sitting even further down, folded ass to calves. Then he arranges my hands the way he wants them. Last but not least, he pushes my head down to the appropriate angle so I can see only his bare feet and the bottom of his jeans.
“This is the submissive position. It’s one I want you to become familiar with.”
My back stiffens. Is he freaking kidding? It’s bad enough that I’m sitting here at his feet, but he thinks—
“I can tell how much you like that idea, Pet,” he laughs, stroking my short hair and then scratching down to my scalp.
Then he settles a blindfold over my eyes. Wait, where did that come from? Did he already have it on the table and I was just too out of it to notice it?
“Eventually it will become second nature to you.”
At what no doubt is my stunned expression, he continues, “I am your Master and you are my pet and you will learn your true place starting now.”
He snaps his fingers. “Open,” he commands.
His hand drops from my hair and one of his fingers settles with the barest pressure on my bottom lip.
I’d love to tell him to go to hell for snapping at me like a dog, but the next second, the smell of eggs hits my nostrils and my mouth falls immediately open.
His fingers return, placing a small bit of eggs into my mouth. I bite into the warm, soft, slightly moist food, having to suck it from his fingers at the end to make sure I don’t waste any of it.
For a second with the blindfold, I was afraid he’d try to trick me and put something gross in my mouth as additional punishment for not giving into him right away—but no, it’s just eggs. Perfectly cooked, salted, delicious eggs.
My mouth is open and waiting when his fingers next descend. He pops the second bite of eggs in my mouth. His other hand lingers on my head, stroking my hair while I eat.