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"Yes, sir."
"I'll answer, though. The workouts will help, as will the diet and getting plenty of sleep. The cure itself hasn't been determined yet. There will be medical tests and study as you go through taking it."
That startled me clear out of my senses. "I'm already taking it, aren't I? Sir?"
"One dose, and it was small, just to make certain you had no ill effects. It was in the milkshake you had your first morning."
That explained the chalky under taste.
"As for the length of the contract? As in many archaic and somewhat ritualistic contracts, it is for a year and a day."
I was on my feet before I thought about it. "I can't be gone a year and a day! I'll get kicked off the force! It's the only thing I've ever wanted! I can't lose it!"
He didn't seem to move but suddenly he was in my face. "Sit. Down!"
I did so out of sheer surprise, then sat looking up at him.
"I have unbelievably good contacts in very high places," he said. "But you're right. They won't wait for a year. You have a limit of two more months before you'll have to either resign or be back on assignment. Fortunately for you I can continue to keep you under the contract while allowing you to work."
My head spun. There were protests I wanted to make and fear was crawling up my back and through my belly. I couldn't be sold to this man to begin with but somehow he accepted that I was and I seemed to also. And I couldn't possibly be his property for a year. I couldn't bear it.
But that was how it was looking and the rest of my life was worth it, especially if I'd be back on the job in a couple months. Once there it wouldn't take much for me to just disappear one day and –
Again he moved without seeming to. This time he grabbed my chin in one hand and wrenched my head around to his. "If you think you'll get lucky, slip away? Read this." He tossed a tablet into my lap.
"What is it?"
The slap came out of nowhere. "Do. What. I. Tell. You."
There was nothing erotic about that, nothing BDSM, nothing more than the ownership he seemed to claim.
My life felt weird and fragile and more so when I started reading what he'd thrown at me. Because it was a list my actions, pretty much all of them, from the time I'd left to the time I'd been returned.
I thought I was good at surveillance. Though I thought there were ways he'd been watching me I had no idea the extent to which he knew my every move.
He took the tablet back. "Lay face down on the bed," he said. "Lower your panties to your knees."
I wanted to beg. I couldn't stand the idea of him hitting me again. But I lowered my eyes and complied with his request, standing to lower my panties with my back to him, still feeling the burn of humiliation on my cheeks. I lay face down on the bed, my underwear bunched just below my ass.
My entire body hummed with tension.
"I'm not going to punish you," he said, and I heard the snap of rubber gloves and tensed, imagining something even worse, even harder to take.
But instead he touched me gently, only running his fingers over the welts and bruises and the few places the skin had been broken.
While I lay there unable to move, just being touched in this somehow both hot and degrading manner, I felt like he was making me a child again. Unable to take care of myself, I'd be subject to his rules and punished at his whim.
I almost turned and protested but memories of the slap and memories of the crop kept me from doing so.
Then too, his threat that eventually he would fuck me. There was nothing childish about that, nothing that made me young instead of – his.
From somewhere he produced a jar of salve which he applied to the parts of my ass where the skin had broken. "You took care of this last night."
"Yes," I said. I was face down and I could feel him still, as if waiting for me to tack on the requisite Sir, but he didn't say anything.
"Good. There will be times that I take care of you afterwards. You're familiar with aftercare?"
"Yes, sir." He knew about my forays into the dungeons. He'd know I had some knowledge.
