Brooke frowned when he kissed her, resisting the urge to catch his lip between her teeth and bite as hard as she could. Still he was sick enough that he'd probably enjoy it, and she'd just get into trouble for it. So she just shut her eyes and tried to ignore it. She hated him kissing her more than everything else. Kissing was supposed to be good and close and intimate and he made it feel dirty and unpure.
She nodded, listening to what he said, thinking how helpless she was and how miserable her life was going to be now she was his pet - his slave. Still, she couldn't help herself leaning her cheek into the hand that stroked her skin. She had learnt to take comfort where she could, even from him. When he was being nice, she could almost pretend all the terrible things hadn't happened. "I understand," she told him, shutting her eyes again. "But... I wouldn't, Damon. I wouldn't try to kill you." No matter what he'd done to her, she wasn't a killer. She hoped to God that he wasn't either - not where she was concerned. Whether she came back or not, she didn't want to go through that in the first place.
Again, she added "Master" as an afterthought. She really hated saying it. It didn't sound right or feel right but she would keep doing it as long as he wanted her to. Of all the things she had to do, calling him that was one of the easiest.