By convict 975468
He came again.
I heard him on the stairs, and stood as I had been told before he reached the top.
He approached and with an evil glint in his eye, he again placed his finger across his lips indicating quiet.
He didn’t need to, I was acutely aware of the rule. I had been worried all morning that I might somehow piss him off and not be fed. I was fully resolved to do whatever I could to please him. He held a mighty weapon with my hunger.
He walked up to me stopping about a foot away, staring into my eyes for what seemed a year. Then he slowly walked around me, stepping over the chain, and stopped facing me again.
I must have turned a bright shade of red, as I flushed from the humiliation. He had no fear! I was his – he owned me. Now, I knew it too.
He stepped closer. I could feel his breath on my face.
“You are doing well.” He smiled.
“Once I give you permission to move, you may request to speak. You will do so by raising your right arm, and pointing upward with your index finger. Do it now.”
