Chapter 4: The New Rule Begins
The hardwood grain pressed its history into my knees.Thirty minutes. The initial shock of nakedness had faded, replaced by a low hum of exposure. The air from the ceiling fan traced cool paths across my shoulders, my spine, the still-tender welts hidden beneath my skin. I was a object in the center of the room, waiting to be used. The blinking red eye of the camera above the almirah watched, unblinking. It was the only witness to the slow crawl of time.A key turned in the lock.
My heart thudded against my ribs, a frantic animal caught in a cage of bone.The door swung open. Paul stepped inside, briefcase in hand, his eyes finding me immediately.He didn’t smile.He didn’t frown. He assessed, as he would a piece of furniture newly delivered.
“Master Veer’s instructions were clear,” he said, his voice normal, conversational, as if discussing the weather. He dropped his briefcase by the door, toeing off his shoes. “Greet me properly.”
I lowered my forehead to the floor, the wood cool against my skin. “Welcome home, Paul.”
“Crawl.”
I pushed myself onto my hands and knees. The movement was awkward, vulnerable, my breasts swaying beneath me.I approached him, the distance feeling immense.He stood still, watching my progress. When I reached his feet, I stopped, my face level with his trousers.
“To the bedroom.”
I turned, leading the way on all fours.The journey was a parade of humiliation. Each shift of my weight, each glance of my knuckles against the floor, was magnified. I felt the phantom eyes of every hidden camera on my naked back, on the curve of my ass. He followed behind, his footsteps a measured, patient echo.In the bedroom, the late sun slanted across the bed. “Position yourself at the side,” he commanded.“On your knees. Hands behind your back.”
I complied, my knees sinking into the rug. He stood before me, unbuckling his belt, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet room.