My right hand is handcuffed to Dorian’s bed. He is sitting on it and watching me greet him with a despicable gaze.
“You do not affect me, little lamb. You don’t possess enough hatred. You cannot make me fear your eyes that are meant to be tamed,” declared Dorian confidentially.
Since I had spent my whole day in his bedroom, I requested him to release me, “I am hungry. Let me go now.”
“Have I said that I’m done punishing you?” says Dorian, appearing content to see me suffer. “I will get you something to eat, only if you promise to behave.”
“I will,” I swear.
He gets out of his bed to finally leave his room. Just as I had anticipated. He left the key to the cuffs on the bed. Glad to realise that I could escape to my room, I quickly uncured my wrist.
“I am free,” I speak in exciteme
