“Have you washed up for dinner, Kate?”
“No, not yet,” I say, looking toward the dining room. Nina has set the table in the formal room, the only lights coming from the massive fireplace and the candelabra set out on the table. I see the hunters’ boards, the silver platers and china and linen napkins.
“Come along, then,” he says.
He leads me down the hallways, past the library and the door to the conservatory, where I like to sit sometimes during the days when it’s warm enough to be tolerable. Sago palms and olive trees and bougainvillea creeping up the glass and trellises.
He turns on the tap and waits for the water to heat up. I stare at my reflexion in the mirror. My hair falls around my face, loose pieces from the tidy knot I’d made this morning. Wide eyes, two red splotches against pale skin. He pulls my fingers under the water and pumps the soap onto them.
“What’s the most important thing you can do when I’m not with you, Kate?” he asks.
“I tried to read a little. It was dark, though. I was opening the draperies–”
“The most important thing you can do is just wait. Wait for me. Think about me. Be patient and focused.”
He scrubs my hands until they’re red and rinses them. He pulls the towel from its little ring and dries my fingers, searching my face.
“Are you hearing me, Kate?”
I nod. “Yes, Daniel,” I whisper.
In the dining room I take my seat to his right, dwarfed by the table, at least 20 feet long, and antique chairs, rich mahogany scroll work. Nina serves steaming dishes. A roast, crispy potatoes and brussel sprouts, a salad with herbs that gleams with olive oil. She fills my plate. Listz floats into the room from unseen speakers. I sip my wine, a good vintage, but I can’t name it. He raises his eyebrows.
“Not too much,” he says.
I nod and take another sip. I have found, over months, that what comes next is easier if I can finish my glass. He never allows more. Finish the glass, eat as little as you can. His hand raises and swings before I can brace myself. The glass flies, soaking the Oriental carpet. My eye swells and I bring my hands up, stifling a sob.
He says nothing, but I see his jaw clench, watch his fists soften as he takes up his fork again. I swallow and he brings little bites to my mouth. I chew, tasting nothing, and Nina cleans up the carpet.
He brings his hand between my legs, pushing up my cotton dress. Fingers against plain panties. He smiles, and it’s terrible.
“Of course,” he says, feeling my wetness. “Of course.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/wwjl5o/away_pt_2_mf_cnc_gaslighting_slow