Submissive

She was back in the Devil\'s lair. Mary fought the urge to aro around and run as she clutched the handle to her carry-on. At her feet, Buster whimpered. She wanted to comfort the tiny pug, but she couldn\'t bring herself to do it. Not after the things Seth had made the dog do to her.
She physically shuddered to remember those things. Forcing her thoughts blank, she reached out and buzzed Seth\'s apartment. He didn\'t bother bark any orders at her over the intercom. The front door to the building clicked open and she made her way down the hall on the first floor to the very last door.
He was already waiting with his hands crossed over his chest, leaning insolently and smirking at her as though it was her idea to come back to him.
He grabbed the front of her shirt just as she was about to walk past and ripped it right down the middle. The unexpected move caused her to drop Buster\'s leash. The pug trotted away to the kitchen.
Inwardly, she had the absurd thought that she should\'ve worn one of her button-up blouses. But she\'d thrown all of them away the minute she\'d found refuge in her own apartment. Now her expensive satin top was ruined.
Seth didn\'t care. He delighted in destroying her things, in destroying her hopes, and in breaking her spirit. He pointed to the couch.
Mary knew what was expected. She just wanted to set her single piece of luggage carefully in the closet first. The front door closed behind her with a soft click. Seth bared down on her and slammed the closet shut--earlearly crushed her hand in the process. Mary didn\'t jump at his violence, though the sudden action caused her pulse to race with fear. His hot breath came heavy through his nostrils and into her ear. Jerking her in the direction of the couch, he bit down on her left shoulder, drawing blood.
She didn\'t scream. In fact, she hardly felt the sting of his bite--so detached had she become from the nightmare. He shoved her forward. She almost tripped. Again, Mary had the hysterical notion to buy slippers instead of high-heels. She sauntered over to the couch and sat down on the left edge.
Seth glared at her from toe to collar. So he wanted her clothes off.
Mary moved quickly, efficiently removing every article of her clothing silently. She let nervousness trickle in her veins, knowing that Seth loved to watch her tremble as she scrambled to do this one small task.
When she was naked, he snapped his fingers, calling Buster over to heel at his .
T.
Time stretched. Seth just stood, he always stood. Buster let out a low whine and lay down. Mary tried not to fidget. The silence was deafening, more terrifying than any instruction Seth had yet to give. She was used to hearing his orders. His silence disturbed her on a whole new level.
Hours passed. Mary didn\'t shift an inch from her position on the couch. Buster was still in the same place on the floorboards. Seth had moved around a bit, first going to use the restroom, then disappearing into the kitchen. The sounds of cabinits opening and closing, the wrong drawer yeilding nothing, reached Mary\'s senses and began to lull her to sleep.
Seth kept no pots or pans. Nor did he stock up on any bowls or plates, or even food. All he kept were spoons. Every conceivable type of spoon imaginable. It was forbidden to ever bring any other object into the kitchen. The only exception was Buster\'s food bowl, which remained habitually empty--and yet the mutt always went to check.
Mary let out a tiny smile at the thought. Her eyelids drooped, her muscles grew lax. Even the dull pain in her shoulder lessened until she slid into darkness.

She was asleep. Good. Seth had waited long enough for her to pass out. The little bitch deserved capital punishment for abandoning him. Opening three drawers, he selected four spoons: on small and silver, one used for serving soup, one rusty from the time he\'d left it out in the rain, and one golden and bent out of shape. He turned the stove on low and set the silver one on it to heat. The soup spoon he decided not to use, so he put that one back with deliberate care. The rusty one he placed in the freezer, and the golden one he put in his back pocket for luck. Not that luck was anything he needed. It was an old habit of his to always bring the gold spoon out whenever he intended to torture a woman.
Seth stuck his head out to check on Mary. Her naked breasts rose slowly, peacefully, though her posture remained as it had been ever since she took her seat. He smiled, she was such a beauty with those purple bruises on her cheek. A single line of blood had trickled between her breasts and come to a stop at her navel. Beautiful, he tho, but not quite a Goddess yet.
He was going to remedy that in a few minutes. With the right scars here and there...he was sure she would thank him for his generosity later.