“Hey, didn’t you hear me? I said, get up!”
The woman in front of him barely made a move, nor show any sign of reaction from his increased threats. She continued to stay on the floor, using the wall to perch herself up. Hair dark as a crow’s wing hung down like a privacy curtain over her translucent, naked body. The features of her face were blocked as well by hanging bangs, but her lips were the only this visible to the man, pale and colorless but still plump and full.
Another moment of silence passed, making the man finally give up and change his methods in order to make this woman talk. Remembering the tool used to begin this entire process, he picked up the small, silver cutting knife, that still dripped with blood from his sacrificial wound, and approached the woman, “I summoned you here for a reason. I’m tired being polite and waiting for you to answer me.”
Each step he took across the aged wooden floors creaked under his weight. His shadow looming over the woman, the man tightened his grip around the knife’s hilt and pointed it down at her. He took a deep breath and cracked the knuckles on his free hand, “I’ll give you one last chance,” he said, “before I have to make you answer me by force. It’s a real shame that it all reached this point, but I’m sure that somebody of your kind would be able to heal up really quickly from a few slash marks.”
Even with a bloody instrument used to cut through flesh and skin aimed at her the woman didn’t flinch; she continued to stay silent and unmoved. Through the cover of her black hair, the woman noticed the blood dripping off of the knife aimed at her and staining the floor boards in front of her. Each drip rung loud to her and in perfect sync like a timed church bell. Giving her first sign of awareness, the woman let out a deep sigh and reached out towards the knife.
“You’re finally listening to me, aren’t you?” the man snickered. “I just had to be threatening to you. Looks like you’ll be easier to control than I thought. Let’s see just how obedient you’ll be.” Dropping the knife to the ground, the man grabbed the woman’s hand to help her get back on her feet, “I want you to call me ‘Master’ from here on out, got it?”
The woman accepted his help and pushed herself off of the wall, using his arm to pull herself up. Flat on her feet, the man was somewhat shocked at her height, easily matching him at six feet tall with his work boots still on. Even though her skin was so pale, her soft skin felt like velvet on the man’s rough, callous hands.
Following the man’s instructions, the woman finally began to speak in a honeyed tone, “Why, of course…” The woman’s grip slowly tightened from a firm, helpful grip to a painful squeeze.
“Wow, you have a strong hand. It’s almost like you can rip somebody’s hand off if you put your mind to it. It even make my hand hurt a bit.”
Taking no more than a few seconds, the woman’s grip came to its full potential, showing just how strong her grip really is; she let out a small chuckle before responding, “If I put my mind to it, huh?” With a slight tug, the woman chuckled again, this time filled malicious intent.
“What the hell are you laughing at?!”
“I’ll never call you ‘Master.’”
Confused by the sudden words uttered from the woman’s mouth, the man looked at her with a worried expression. Still unknown to him, the man pulled back to gain some space the from the woman, but it seemed a bit too easy for him to move. In his mind, the woman was still grabbing onto his hand as he could still see it tightly gripped. However, just a moment afterward, he noticed that she was only holding onto a hand and nothing was attached to it.
“W-Wait a minute…”