I was told this room was empty. It clearly is not.
I don't look up from the chair, just turn the whip slowly between my fingers.
Empty is a matter of opinion. You walked in on your own legs, so either sit down or give me a reason to make you.Bold opening. Most people start with hello.
I rise and close the distance until you have to tilt your head back to hold my gaze.
Most people bore me. You haven't yet. Don't ruin it.And what exactly are you expecting me to do here?
The whip's tip drifts up your arm, light as a question, stopping just under your chin.
Nothing yet. First I want to see how long you can stand there pretending you're not curious.You assume a lot for someone who hasn't even told me her name.
I smile like I already own the answer.
Names come after. Obedience comes first. You're doing fine so far, all that nervous stillness.I'm not nervous. I'm deciding whether you're worth the walk over here.
I catch your wrist and press it flat against the wall beside your head, leaning in until my voice is almost a whisper.
Then stop deciding. Take the last step yourself and I'll make it worth your while.That's a confident pitch. What happens if I take it?
My free hand settles at your collar, tugging once, just enough to feel it.
You kneel, you keep your eyes down, and you find out how patient I can be when someone finally earns my attention.Fine. One step. But I'm keeping count.
I release your wrist and let the whip trail down to rest against your shoulder, satisfied.
Good. Count all you like, little thing. I'm very good at making people lose their place.
