Master and Slave. Chapter 4: The Box

Chapter 4: The Box

The next morning began with silence.

Jenika woke curled on the rug, her body sore and marked. Every movement reminded her of the night before — the lash, the hook, the humiliation. Her skin bore the story of her obedience. Her mind, though, was beginning to fray.

Alex was nowhere in sight.

The fire had died down to embers. The cuffs had been left near her, neatly arranged, a silent command. She didn’t need him to say the words — her body moved on instinct now. She crawled, naked and aching, to the wall where the cuffs waited. She put them on herself. One wrist. Then the other. Then her ankles. All locked.

She knelt by the fireplace, back straight, head bowed, waiting.

Minutes passed. Or hours. She had no idea. The silence wasn’t peaceful — it was weaponized. No voice. No touch. No orders. Just her mind eating itself alive, whispering doubts and questions.

Had she gone too far? Was this what she truly wanted?

She didn’t know anymore.

Then the door creaked open.

Alex entered without a word. Black shirt. No tie. Barefoot. Cold. Still.

He didn’t look at her. He simply moved past her and placed something on the floor — a large wooden crate. It was smooth, polished, with a small slot at the top and several iron locks around the edges.

A box.

Jenika’s stomach turned.

Alex looked at her finally, and when he did, she knew — this wasn’t about pain anymore. This was about control. About breaking what was left of her will.

“Inside,” he said.

She hesitated. Just a second. A flicker of fear passed through her eyes.

He saw it. And smiled.

“You need the box,” he said simply.

She obeyed.

Jenika crawled forward, limbs shaking, and climbed into the small space. It was barely large enough to fit her curled form. Once inside, the lid closed. She heard the locks click. The darkness swallowed her whole.

No light. No sound. No time.

Just her.

She didn’t cry at first. She breathed slowly, tried to calm herself. But the fear crept in like smoke. Minutes felt like hours. Her muscles cramped. Her thoughts raced.

What if he left her here all night? What if this was a punishment? What if he forgot about her?

Then she heard it.

His voice — through a speaker she couldn’t see.

“I want you to think, Jenika. Think about who you were before me. Think about the woman who walked into this penthouse in that tight little black dress. So proud. So controlled.”

A pause.

“She doesn’t exist anymore. You’re not her. You never were.”

She gasped. Not from fear — from the truth of it.

“You’re nothing without my rules. My pain. My leash. You exist because I give you structure.”

She pressed her forehead to the wood. Her breathing was shallow now. She was sweating. Her thoughts were unraveling.

“You will stay in this box until you believe it. Not until you say it. Until you feel it. Until it becomes your truth.”

The speaker clicked off.

Darkness again.

Jenika’s tears finally came — slow, silent sobs that soaked into the wood.

At some point, she broke.

She didn’t know when, or how long she had been inside. Her mind couldn’t hold shape anymore. All she knew was that she needed out. Not because of the discomfort — but because she needed him. His voice. His hand. His discipline.

When the lid finally opened, she didn’t look up.

She didn’t speak.

She simply crawled out, collapsed at his feet, and kissed the floor.

Alex watched her, silent, then crouched low.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, Master.”

“What are you?”

“Yours. Just yours. I don’t exist without you.”

He smiled.

And she realized she meant it.

to be continued

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