"Eat." He held her firmly when she tried to move away from her plate. "Eat!" he repeated sternly.

"I need my hands to eat."

"You will address me as Master or Sir. You lost the privilege of using your hands for the day, pet. Now eat."

Clara understood what he wanted. She was to eat like a pet. Reluctantly, she lowered her head to take bites of her food. She could feel lemon sauce coating her nose and chin, and smeared across her cheeks as she chewed her food. Ian put a straw into the metal water bottle and Clara eagerly sipped it. She hated this man, she decided. He...