The clink of the glass is soft against the glass table, as the taller man sits on his comfortable arm chair. He sighs, a disappointed breath which makes you squirm in your knelt position in front of him.

He puts his hands on his lap, straightening his posture which makes you subconsciously straighten your own. You're in trouble again. You could tell from the moment he walked into the house and told you to kneel in front of his chair. You had scrambled to get there, moving from your relaxed position on the couch to a now more submissive spot on the ground.

He gave you a look over.. His blue eyes piercing against your bruised skin, a strange reflexion to his own perfectly flawless skin.

He breaks the silence.

"Repeat your rules to me, Dear.." He asks. Although, there's more to it. It's a demand. A demand he won't allow to be refused.. That silky voice almost makes you believe you're allowed to misbehave, but you keep your composure and speak..