Read Silent Daughter 3: Owned for Free Online Page B

phone calls thanks to my headset. I am always dictating or talking to someone while cooking, work-related stuff that needs to be done but would be more tedious to me if I couldn’t use my time for something else simultaneously. Something useful like feeding my cute little pet upstairs. The only food I have given her that wasn’t made by me was the mini cake she got for a dessert. Baking is very unlike cooking, and it doesn’t suit me.
    Today, however, I don’t concern myself with multitasking. Things have been set in motion and should be settled enough to continue as planned. The following week will show if my intuition is right in this regard, but it usually is.
    Unless I am blinded by a spell cast by a beautiful young girl who is unlike any other I have met before, that is.
    Even now, I find myself clenching my fists when I think about it. I hate carelessness and weakness, and with Liz, I showed both.
    I cast the thought aside and finish up the dish for tonight. Whiskey-glazed flat iron steaks and grilled potatoes. The dish would work like this, but I added a side salad because green always adds to the appearance of a meal, especially for women. It’s a small portion, delicate but of the best quality. I want her well fed but not too full tonight.
    She has been a good, obedient girl for most of the week and deserves a treat. However, the treat is not the meal itself, but the fact that I am bringing in two plates instead of one tonight, accompanied by some wine.
    And a little surprise.

Chapter 8

    LIZ
     
     
    I don’t know how much longer I can handle this. Of course, I also don’t know how much longer I will have to endure. The captivity, his very own way of cruel torture by teasing me up until the point where my orgasm is just about to hit me, and then leaving me like this, feverish and ashamed.
    It is horrible and addictive at the same time. Every day has become the same and turned into a vicious routine that keeps me guessing if today is going to be the day that something changes, that he will let me come. Or tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow.
    He shows up in the morning to bring me breakfast, and when I’m done with eating, he leaves the room and gives me time to shower and make myself presentable, just as he did on the first day. Then, he returns and trains me. The morning sessions are usually short and don’t consist of much but him telling me to pose in certain ways or present myself in humiliating postures while he sits or stands in front of me in a suit. On some days, he doesn’t even touch me, but merely keeps his eyes fixated on me the whole time.
    One day, all he did was ask me to sit at his feet, naked and curled up around his leg while he asked me all kinds of questions about myself. About my childhood, about school, about my family. I was reluctant at first and only gave him short replies, but he kept poking and threatening to punish me if I didn’t open up to him more. When I asked him why he wanted to know all these things, he said: “I told you, I want you to be mine. All of you. And that means knowing you.”
    Still, I kept a lot of things to myself, especially the kind of information that would make me vulnerable.
    I was less surprised by his interest in my desires. In fact, it is the area that interests him the most. He wanted to know about my sexual experiences with other men and what I did or did not like about them. He pulled at my hair with full force when I refused to give him any detailed information about the things I did when I was by myself in my room.
    “Don’t hide anything from me,” he hissed. “Especially not this part, the part you hide from everybody else.”
    So I talked and talked. More than I have talked to anybody in years because he forced me to. I told him almost everything he wanted to know until he suddenly rose from his chair and declared the training session to be over.
    I felt lonelier than ever when he left my room that day.
    It's not fair. I told him so