He scares her.
The way he watches from the shadows, his precarious grip on her wrist as he yanks her into his lap after too much wine and not enough golden thread.
"Let me up please."
It's a tart thing meant to sting like the shooting pain in her fragile wrist.
Her eyes narrow with distaste when he smiles.
"You aren't scared are you?"
His breath his nauseating as it floods her nostrils and she scrunches up her face in disgust.
She wrenches from him but it's no use.
He'll let her up when he's good and ready.
When they're both good and ready….
"Come now!" he sings, "Don't play pretend with me dearie, do not act as if this is the first time you've ever been in a man's lap!"
"But I haven't!" she protests, still trying to wriggle from him.
His arms hold her tight around the waist now; tight like Belle likes it.
"You know what I do to liars dear." He coos sweetly as he skims one hand down her leg.
He is upset tonight.
He has been drinking.
There has been no spinning.
He is as a restless animal in a cage too small.
She likes him this way.
The stiff arm of his chair is digs into her back, "Let me up!"
He slaps her thigh and she screeches in pain.
"You'll get up when I say you can get up."
His tone isn't light hearted and playful anymore.
But Belle isn't afraid of him.
She writhes and twitches in his grasp between slaps and admonishments.
His hands grope at her neck until he finally clutches it.
Belle stills.
"I'll snap it like a twig."
Her clear eyes narrow hatefully.
"You wouldn't dare."
She hisses the words at him through her perfect teeth.
He growls and clamps his long hands around her neck.
"The trouble with you is," he watches her eyes fill quickly with fear and realization, "You have no respect for your master."
Her hands fly up to his as she attempts to pry them away from her pale throat.
He squeezes harder.
"You still have that brazen streak in you dearie, like a wild mare."
He giggles at his analogy as she continues to struggle against him.
Her face has reddened and her hands are starting to become less instant.
It excites him to hold her life in his hands.
He could snuff it out like a flame if he wanted to.
He grins into her tearing eyes.
"But fear not! For I have great plans for you…"
He allows his hands loosen just a small fraction and sweet air rushes into her dying lungs.
Her hands rest limply against his as she greedily sucks up all of his oxygen.
Fat, clear tears run down her swollen cheeks as her chest heaves with relief.
She's relaxed in his lap, her head resting against his chest.
Her hands have encircled his neck loosely as she lets her mind readjust.
His hands are now gripping the arms of his chair in the same fashion as he was just gripping Belle's beautiful neck.
She was afraid of him.
Fear is so intoxicating to him.
It helps him cope.
"Wha-What are your plans for me?" she breaths.
The new air in her body stings and burns.
Her heart thunders against her rib cage.
She loves it.
He tilts his head back against the chair and grins, "I am going to break you."
Belle nuzzles into his neck as her fingers card through the hair at his nape, "I don't think so."
He digs his nails into the arms of his chair and stiffens.
His nostrils expand dangerously and his upper lip twitches with budding anger.
"Testing me again so soon Belle?" he snips through gritted teeth.
She sighs against his jugular and rubs his neck soothingly, "Naturally."
He scoffs and rolls his eyes, "And why, pray tell, do you think I cannot break you? Are my punishments not severe enough?"
She inhales his spicy scent and lets her lips travel slowly up to his ear, "You cannot break me…"
He shivers at the heat of her breath.
" ….because I enjoy the punishment far more than the reward….Master."