Chapter 8

Lauren

Damn this girl is frustrating. She is infuriating even, but she is a challenge, one that I was willing to pursue although it will annoy me to hell and back if she continues to ask me questions I don’t want to answer.

“You haven’t eaten,” I state looking at the tray still occupied with untouched food from yesterday.

“Wasn’t hungry,” she replies in a small voice.

I pull on my shirt and close my wardrobe door, facing her completely now. She still looks too weak to support herself on those sticks for legs and the nightgown I gave her yesterday appears to want to fall from her limbs.

I sigh, annoyed at myself for doing that to her.

“Well let's go to breakfast then,” I said, motioning for her to hold my arm for support. She does, but the hesitation in every move that she makes when it comes to getting close to me is evident.

But even then, she never seems scared of me, more guarded and suspicious. I know she has many questions for me, but I really didn’t want to answer them, not when I have a question of my own, like why did my kisses not work, they always work.

Is it possible she had built up a resistance to them the longer she was exposed to them? If so then she can’t know, I can’t have her thinking I am weak. She already gets too much from me, I’m just going to have to show her who is really in charge.

I helped her into her seat, pushing the chair in for her before sitting in my own. Her eyes remain on mine the journey to my chair, even as I sit across from her now.

Questions are written all over her face, and like I’ve said, I don’t want to answer them.

“Stephanie,” I call and the maid enters the room holding two trays of food and places them in front of each of us.

“Miss Davids you have a call from Mr Turner,” she says before she leaves the room.

Anger builds up inside of me as I look back at Elise, who now looks shocked and even more curious if that was even possible.

“Stay here,” I hissed at her as I stepped out of the room to pick up the phone of that jackass.

+++CHANGE POV+++

Elise

I watch as Miss Davids storms out of the room, well at least got somewhat part of a name to put to a face.

She seems angry at the announcement, is it because I found out her name, or was it the person who was calling her, Mr Turner or whatever.

Either way part of me doesn’t want to be close to her right now, by the look of irritation she has had on her face since she walked out of the bathroom.

“Are you going to eat?” She asks, walking back into the room and sitting back in her original seat.

I shake my head, feeling nauseous just looking at the fruit platter in front of me. Come to think of it, she has been willing for me to eat for the last two days, even fuming when I don’t. Why is she pushing for it so much?

“Fine, I’ll just have to enjoy this in my own way,” she replies, picking up her fork and stabbing a piece of fruit on her plate, as if I weren’t a few feet away from her and she was just enjoying her own space.

I sit there silently, not knowing what to do, when I suddenly feel something slither in between my thighs, making me shiver and pull away from the table. The thing in between my thighs retract and whip around my leg, pulling me back hard into the table.

“I didn’t tell you you could move,” the woman says bluntly, continuing to with her breakfast like nothing is happening.

I sit shocked, as the rope, scaly type snake unwraps itself from my leg and snakes back in between my exposed thighs, forcing itself up the knee length nightgown.

I suck in a breath of air when it reaches the fabric of my underwear, tensing in my chair and feeling my limbs tremble.

“What?” I ask shakily, drawing her attention back to me. “Is that?”

“What is what?” she asks innocently, her eyebrows drawn into mock surprise.

“In between my legs.”

“Oh, that,” she said, acknowledging my panicked state.

The pull of ripped fabric pulls my attention back to the thing back to my lower region. With one quick thrust, it pushes deep into my entrance, filling my up with contracting scales and a hard roll of muscles. I gasp and try again to pull away from the table, but the thing inside me forms and curls within me, weakening my knees with pleasure.

“That would be my tail,” she says, bringing her fork back to her face.

With that it flexes in me and pulsates against my walls.

“Sorry, it sometimes has a mind of its own,” she said, smirking, not looking away from me anymore.

I grip the edge of the table as it begins to shallowly thrust inside me, getting faster and deeper, curling into my g-spot with every push.

“Why don’t you just give in to me?” She asks. “I wouldn’t have to force myself upon you.”

“You would still force yourself upon me,” I seeth in between hisses of pleasure.

“How would you know? Maybe I would let you go.”

“I doubt that,” I gulped, trying to pull away from the table once more.

She cocks her head to the side before ripping her tail painfully out of me and standing up from the table. Both her hands slam on the table making me jump away once more.

“You agreed to this,” she shouts. “I didn’t force you to oblige but now that you have you think that you're in charge, that you can just make your own rules?”

I push myself further into the chair, trying to get as far away from her as the chair would allow.

She stares at me for a moment longer as if she was trying to figure me out, before sighing and standing back up.

“Did you want to go back to your cell?” She asks, her voice now back to normal and sounding indifferent.

I shake my head, thinking about the four cement walls that I had occupied for a month already.

She nods, her eyes not leaving mine as she walks to my side, holding her arm out for me.

“I’ll get Stephanie to bring you clothes and food throughout the day, feel free to bath or whatever you want,” she says helping me out of my chair and towards her room.

I nod, confused by the sudden mood change thing she has. How someone can go from furiously yelling, to gently escorting is beyond me.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” she said when she helps me to sit on her bed. Before she leaves she turns to me once more, as if debating to say something but thinks better of it and leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.

This morning has by far been the weirdest I have ever lived in my eighteen years of life.