"Are you ready for me to come now, slave?" he asked, pounding into me.
"No, Master," I replied, suspecting that this was the wrong answer, but really, really I was not ready to be done yet. Didn't we just start?
Ahem. He cleared his throat warningly, "I said, 'Are you ready for me to come now?' "
"Whatever you want, Master." I knew that this was the right answer.
"Yes, but are you ready now?"
"Are you really, whore?" Now I wasn't sure. What did he want me to say, jeez!
"Yes, no, I don't know, Master, whatever you want", I stammered in confusion.
The next day I asked him what he wanted from me at that point.
Like the rat in the cage who is shocked by the floor, but can't predict or avoid it, so she just gives up all attempts at escape and accepts her fate.
What he wanted was my confusion, my inner turmoil, my surrender, my willingness to say anything to please him, to be completely helpless before him.
Unable to be right, I would just be.