Black Rose

His Commands.

Content Warning
Chapter contains sexual abuse and may be triggering to victims of assault or domestic violence.

I wanted to argue, to fight, but my limbs were still twitching, and I knew I couldn't put myself through electrocution again.

So, I nodded. "Okay," I muttered.

He grinned at me. "Good girl. Or, should I say good dog. Now, get on your hands and knees."

I stared at him, incredulous. He raised an eyebrow at me. "I am going to need you to be a bit faster than that, my rose. You know what will happen if you hesitate like that again."

He tapped the pocket where he had stowed the remote to the collar and smirked. It was enough to spur me into action.

Rather ungracefully, I climbed off the bed and dropped onto my hands and knees, the lump rising in my throat. I looked at the floor, degradation and humiliation rising within me.

He chuckled. "Good girl. Now, look up at me." Begrudgingly, I lifted my head to see that he was smirking down at me. "That's better. Now, how about we play some fetch?"

He turned around, and gestured for me to follow him. A lump in my throat, I crawled behind him, my hands and knees already starting to grow stiff in the crouched position.

He made it to the cupboards, and pondered for a moment. "Hmm, what to use..." he muttered to himself. He opened a few doors, but obviously nothing struck him, as he ended up just stepping away from the cupboards and looking back down at me. I met his gaze, my jaw set in quiet anger.

"Smile, my rose. You look like you've just tasted a wet sock," He said, with a smirk. Then his face lit up. "Actually, that's not a bad idea..."

He pulled off his nice black shoes, and I cringed, already overwhelmed with the stench of his feet, reminded of the day before, when he had forced his foot in my mouth. He chuckled, and slowly peeled off his black socks, slick with sweat. Then, to my horror, he rolled them up into a ball together, locked eyes with me, and threw them across the room.

"Fetch."

I hesitated, disgusted and humiliated at the prospect of collecting his dirty socks, but he just smirked, and gently tapped his pocket. The remote. As awful as his games were, I didn't want to go back to that pain.

So slowly, I turned around, and crawled across the room towards the black ball, sitting on the far wall. When I reached it, I grabbed it with my hand and turned to start the journey back over. Before I could, he stopped me.

"Uh uh uh, my rose. Dogs don't carry their balls like that," He tutted, and gave me a knowing look. I stared, frozen.

Surely not. Surely this was enough, that he wouldn't make me do that.

But he just nodded at me, and gestured to his mouth.

Oh god I have to do it.

Wincing, I picked the ball of dirty socks up, and against my better judgement, I wedged it between my teeth.

The taste was instantly overwhelming, and I gagged. My eyes started watering and I felt like I was going to throw up.