Try to escape

Without thinking, your fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and you tried to leap out of her wardrobe, making a **** dash for freedom. This was your only chance, and you couldn’t afford to mess it up. As you bolted past her, she grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back and slamming you to the ground.

“Oh no, no, Spandex-Boy,” she teased, still holding your hair in a tight grip. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Humiliation washed over you. She had effortlessly manhandled you, pulling you down with one swift motion. Now, you lay sprawled on the floor, mere inches from her polished leather boots. You planted your right hand on the ground, attempting to push yourself up, but she yanked your hair again, forcing you to look up at her—a powerful, unyielding figure towering over you. Before you could react, she slapped you across the face, hard.

SMACK

Pain flared in your cheek, but before you could register it fully, she struck again.

SMACK

“You don’t just walk away from me after I catch you like this, you little coward.” Her eyes flashed with anger as she continued the punishment, each blow pushing you further into submission. Helpless, you knelt before her, your hair clutched tightly in her grasp, your fate entirely in her hands.

Finally, she released your hair, and you collapsed back onto the floor. Desperately trying to steady yourself, you grabbed at her boots, a gesture both instinctual and humiliating.

“Look up at me,” she commanded, her voice laced with disgust.

You obeyed, fear overwhelming any remaining pride. She looked down at you, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips.

“Apologize. Right now. Apologize for trying to escape and promise—swear—that from now on, you’ll do everything I say. Otherwise…” Her tone softened back to that mocking, patronizing drawl. “I won’t hesitate to call the police.”

Without hesitation, you lifted your gaze to meet hers. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, barely able to get the words out.

She lifted her boot and pressed it firmly into your back, forcing you down flat against the floor. “No. You’ll do better than that—you’ll beg for my forgiveness.”

Pressed down under her weight, you managed to stammer, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I won’t try to escape again; I won’t step out of line. Please… forgive me. I beg you.”

At last, she lifted her boot. “Good,” she said simply, a smug satisfaction in her voice.