Behind the Badge: Obsession in the Shadows

Reflection

He continued to feed me bringing the food to my lips slowly. I tried to focus on the taste of the food rather than the overwhelming fear that was consuming me.

As he fed me, his eyes remained fixed on me. Each time I looked up, I saw a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze, as if he took pleasure in my dependence on him. After my plate was clear he set the fork down.

"How did you like food baby?" he asked.

I swallowed my spit despite my throat being dry. "It's fine," I managed to reply. His smile widened slightly as if pleased with my response.

"Good," he said, standing up and walking back to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of wine. "I want you to remember something. This situation can be as easy or as difficult as you make it."

I nodded, feeling the ropes bite into my wrists as I shifted slightly.

He finished his wine and walked back to the table the sound of steps echoing in the quiet room. He places the glass down before sitting back down in his seat. "We have a lot to work on," he said. "But I believe we can get there."

I felt my eyes start to pool with tears again.

He reached out his thumb gently brushing a tear from my cheek. "I know this is difficult," he said softly. "But you'll get used to it. And in time, you'll see that this was the best way for both of us."

The words are a slap to the face, but still give him a nod. He seemed happy with my response and returned to his food, leaving me tied up like a prisoner.

As he ate I heard each tick of the clock echoing in place of the unspoken words. I watched him, my mind trying to find any possible way to escape.

He took his time to chew each bite now and then he would look at me.

After finishing his dinner, he stood up and stretched casually.

"Now that we've had dinner," he said, "it's time for a bit of reflection. I want you to think about our situation. Understand your place here."

He walked over to the sink he washed his hands and dishes the sound of the running water seemed to slightly calm my nerves. He acted as if he were completely at ease with the twisted nature of our relationship.

He turned off the faucet and walked back to me. "You know," he said, crouching in front of me once more, "this could be so much simpler if you just accepted things as they are."

I tried to meet his eyes, but his intense eyes made it hard to make eye contact. His calloused fingers traced lightly over my upper arm.

"Here's how this is going to work," he said, "You follow what I say, you don't try to escape or leave, and in return, you avoid pain. It's a fair, wouldn't you agree?"

I nod in response.

He stood up, his eyes never once leaving mine. "I'll be checking on you to make sure you're settling in. I suggest you use this time to think about how you want our arrangement to be. The more cooperative you are, the easier this will be for both of us."

His eyes seemed to soften, but only slightly, and he reached out to gently touch my cheek again. "I want us to get along," he said.

He moved to the other side of the room walking to the bookshelf. He selected a book and sat down in a comfortable-looking recliner, flipping through the pages with a calm indifference.

As the evening continued, the tension between us was endless only by the cut slightly by the occasional turning of pages.

Now and then, he would look over at me.

Eventually, he stood up and walked to me again. "I'll be leaving you here for the night," he said his words immediately made my stomach drop. "Try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a new day."

I feel his hand pat my head softly before turning on his heel to leave. The door shut behind him, and I was left alone in the kitchen.

The moment the door closed I struggled against the ropes not sleeping a wink. My limbs are red raw and bloody. I didn't care I needed to leave.

I hear the door opening and he walks in still in his civilian clothes it is the weekend and it must be his day off.

His frustration was heavily present on his face as he saw the red, inflamed marks where the ropes had dug into my wrists. His eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched in anger.

"Look what you have done to yourself," he said. He moved quickly to the first aid kit, pulling out supplies to tend to the wounds. He untied me and cleaned and bandaged the cuts. The medicine stung and caused me to flench.

"There," he said finally. "You're cleaned up. But don't think that this excuses you from punishment. You need to understand you are mine now, and I don't like you disrespecting and damaging what belongs to me, this will likely take a couple of weeks to heal."

He stood up and glared at me, "You belong to me now. You can't keep hurting yourself to the point of foolishness, it looks like you did this all night, rather than resting like I told you to."

He walked to the corner of the room, where he picked up a heavy wooden ruler. He returned to me. "Since you've made things difficult, you need to be reminded of your place."

He gestured for me to move closer to the edge of the chair, and I did as my heart pounding with fear. His face was set in a cold, determined expression as he took the ruler and brought it down sharply against my exposed thighs.

The sting from the hits made me involuntarily flench, I bit my lip to muffle any sound that wanted to escape. He gave me several firm strikes, each one met with a sharp pain that made me gasp.

"You need to realize that not listening has consequences," he says. "This is to remind you of your place, you belong to me now."

When he finally stopped, he stepped back and looked at his work. The pain was very noticeable I could feel the heat dancing across my thighs.

"Remember this," he said. "If you continue to struggle and resist, you will face more of this ."

He gently brushed my tears away with his hand. "Now you stay right here."

He set the ruler down and walked to the fridge and stove. The sounds of food being prepared filled the room as he made breakfast.

I sat there, the pain from the ruler. I heard him as he moved around the kitchen, I knew I had to remain still.