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Theirlovefor each other is a cruel mistress.
It fabricates and lies. It steals hope and inflicts pain.
It forces you to do things you don’t want to do.
No!Love isn’t cruel. It’s compassion,my internal voice sees fit to remind me just at that moment.It’s empathy. It’s kindness. Seven has no choice, neither of them do. The only person who’s cruel is you.
I sneer, a laugh bursting from my lips. I ignore those thoughts and push them deep inside as I turn to the rest of the Numbers and say: “The ball is your priority and it iscrucialthe show is at its best. We have important people coming, all of whom are excited to experience first-hand the magic of The Menagerie. You will rehearse until the show is perfect. You will perform to the high standard I expect from you all, and you will fuck whoever pays the handsomist for the pleasure. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Master,” comes the chorused reply.
“Good. If it’s not perfect, there will be dire consequences.” This I say to One, who acknowledges me with a nod.
“It’s already perfect,” she says with utmost certainty. “You have no reason to doubt us.”
“Do not disappoint me,” I say, before flicking my gaze back to the couple just at the moment Seven comes with a silent, almost pained groan. I watch as he pulls gently out of Three, his cock covered in her blood. She’s trembling so hard she can barely stand as he helps ease her to her feet. Holding her upright, he pulls down her sheer dress before turning her in his arms and hauling her against his chest.
Neither say a word, they just cling to one another, both utterly oblivious to anyone else in the room. In that moment, when he cups her face and presses a tender kiss against her lips, I am reminded of what it truly means to sacrifice yourself for love.
It’s vulnerability.
It’s pain.
It’sweakness.
And I vow that I will never allow myself to fall into the same trap.
