Page 14 of Break Me
Dax’s military boots appear, and I trail my eyes up over his jeans, the black snake tattoo, and his cut-off T-shirt. A weak breath shudders past my lips at the sight of the two steel bowls in his hands. It’s the same type of dog bowl he made me eat from yesterday.
Sinking to his haunches, he places them on the floor. One with porridge, one with water.
“On your knees.” He moves the thick pile of blankets aside.
Pressing an elbow into the mattress, I push up, and the movement takes a frightening amount of effort.
As if reading my thoughts, Dax says, “Don’t worry. I’ll get you started on some exercise today and you’ll feel better soon.”
Some exercise may lend me some new strength and loosen my stiff joints, but nothing is going to chase away the strain of constant fear and latent panic. I want to tell him this, but I keep the words in, unable to bear the defeat of him shooting them down with his warped logic.
He takes the thick collar hanging from his back pocket and places it around my throat. I drop my head as the leather wraps around my neck in a snug fit, and my chest shudders as I repress an oncoming burst of tears. He finishes by attaching a steel leash to the front ring.
“Now, lean down and eat your breakfast.” He moves to sit on the mattress beside me, holding the leather handle on the leash in his hand.
I don’t protest. I don’t have it in me. I simply bow and stick my tongue into the porridge.
“Good girl.” Dax scratches me behind my ear, and as I keep eating, one lick at a time, he pets my head and strokes my back.
When the bowl is empty, he makes me drink the water, then washes my face and has me use the toilet while he stands in front of me, holding the leash.
“Let’s go for a walk,” he says once I’m done. “On your hands and knees.”
I sink to the hard ground and follow him on all fours as he leads me from the cell by the leash. My movements are slow and stiff, and I expect a hard tug and a command to pick up the pace at any moment. But he just keeps walking slowly at my side, giving small pulls on the leash to lead me in the right direction whenever he turns around a corner.
A scream echoes through the long hall as a guard drags a girl from her cell. I automatically turn my head to look, but Dax nudges it back in place. “Don’t look. Keep your focus on me, eyes straight ahead or on the ground. He’s not gonna hurt you. You’re with me.”
As the guard hauls the girl past us, I keep my head lowered.
“Good girl, already learning.” Dax rewards me with a pat on the head, and I want to sink into myself and shut out the warped praise even as I want to lean into his touch and soak it up.
He takes me back to the cell, where he makes me kneel on a blanket that he folds and places on the floor. He proceeds to attach some kind of rubber tube with a black ball, which looks like some kind of pump, to the front of the collar, then stands in front of me, placing a hand on top of my head.
The calmness radiating off him takes on a deceptive quality as he asks, “What does the tattoo on your arm say?”
Closing my eyes, I heave a shuddery breath. “Dax zero, zero, one.”
“And what does that mean?”
My chest tightens, and I curl my fingers against my thighs. “That I’m property.”
“Yes. You’re property. But does that mean you’re nothing?”
I swallow hard, knowing what he wants to hear. But it doesn’t seem right. It seems like a lie chipping away at my integrity as I shake my head.
“You’re going to become a precious little submissive who will make your future master very proud.” He grabs my chin and lifts my head to face him. “Repeat the words:I’m going to become a precious little submissive who will make my master very proud.”
Tears pool in my eyes as I shake my head. I can’t say those words. I just can’t.
“Go on,” Dax urges and repeats the words. “I’m going to become a precious little submissive who will make my master very proud.”
I shut my eyes and swallow hard. “I’m—”
“Uh-uh, look at me while you say it.” He leans down to give my head a small shake, and I force my eyes open, staring into his commanding yet warm gaze. Another little piece of me chips away as I say the words.
“I’m going to become a precious little submissive who will make my master very proud.”
“Now, say it like you mean it.”