"Don't move."
Cara's voice cut into the damning silence of their apartment, freezing Carter in his tracks. The statement was simple, yet demanding. Though, there was something in her voice that was far too cold to be hers; something less suave and collected.
"Where ya going so late, dressed so fuckin' cute like that, Hmm?"
Carter shuttered, suddenly feeling ashamed at his revealing attire. He really didn't have anything to feel guilty about as he was just going to a party that him and Cara had talked about a couple days prior. Though, the thing that made him uneasy, was the fact that in this state, Cara doesn't tend to remember things all too well.
She shifted a little on uneasy feet, stalking towards him like a blind lion, but a predator nonetheless.
"It's too bright in here. Why are all the fuckin' lights on?"
Cara rubbed her temples, looking around for the source of light.
"There's only one lamp on, Cara."
Carter said, unfaltering.
His exterior was rigid and indifferent, but his heart was threatening to pound out of chest. He almost didn't want to go to the party. He wanted her to do something to him, something that would make him stay.
"Well butter my ass and call me a biscuit."
Carter watched Cara's lopsided figure stride across the room with unprecedented gracelessness. Carter wasn't use to this level of boorishness from her, but it would happen on every so occasion in which life got a little too heavy, so she'd tap into her collection high class champagnes and opulent varieties of fine wines. He would watch in silence as her suave persona is taken apart by a couple swigs straight from the bottle of Remy Martin. Mixed with her being stressed and horny, and he's got himself an exchange like this.
He wasn't sure which one was the animal in this situation: her for being so predatory or him for feeling so caged.
Carter narrowed his eyes at the sight before him. Cara had been just staring at the lamp for lord knows how long as they both appear to be dissociating into their own thoughts. Her eyes snapped to him for a brief moment before her hand crept under the lampshade.
"Way too fucking bright."
She rasps before flicking off the light.
Carter briefly recoils in shock, pressing himself against the apartment wall out of habit. Silence. More silence. The silence is so long it almost curdles before it's disrupted again. A jarring yawn erupts from out of the darkness, disturbing the heavy air. A gust of hot breath drowns his face with the smell of alcohol. She is right in front of him.
Carter looks straight ahead at her, even though he can't see at all. Many would assume that Cara couldn't see very well either, but really, she doesn't need to.
"Hi."
Cara whispers, a hand reaching to gingerly touch Carter's face. He knows not to shrink away or flinch. It would only make things worse.
"You're going to let me touch you any way I want to, yes?"
Her way of phrasing the question left room for rejection, but left more room for agreement.
"Yes."
Carter swallowed the lump of saliva that had gathered in his throat, stuttering out the words fearfully as if this wasn't the game they had always played before.
Carter registered the sound of skin hitting skin before he had registered the numbing pain that had spread across the side of his neck. He didn't have enough time to whimper or whine, so he only let out a small pathetic squeak.
"Awww. I'm sorry. Did that hurt? You should know what good boys say when their mistress addresses them. What do they say, honey?"
Cara says with mock sympathy as she caressed the side of his face, as that is where she initially meant to strike instead of his neck.
Carter, still recoiling from the pang of pain and pleasure that slap sent through his body, couldn't make his lips form a proper sentence.
