I stare at you as you climb onto the bed, flinching as your hand wraps around my ankle, grasping it harshly and telling me to give you my hand - commanding me. I reluctantly hold my hand out, though tense immediately at the words, my eyes repeatedly moving from the knife in the bed back to your eyes. I shake my head in response to your comment about what I will be begging for and try to tug my leg free from your hand, protesting through the gag despite the ache in my jaw.