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Chapter Two
Teddy
I grit my teeth as I walk away, leaving Branson to clean up the mess. And I know he’ll do a good job too, pitiful fuck. I never should have listened to Jane, did things my own way. All she ever wanted was control, submission. But I’ve come to the conclusion that isn’t what I crave. It’s the struggle I crave.
Jane and I are different people, I’ve come to realize. Though our desires, our proclivities are the same, our reasons are vastly different. Jane is so broken by her past that she needs to break others, to control everything to feel safe. Me? I just like to watch the world burn. I like the challenge, the adrenaline, and thrill of a good kill. Or of torturing my favorite toy.
I spent ages looking up different ways to break him. Learning varying techniques to create a true submissive. He fought me long and hard, too. Those are days I look back on fondly, the give and take between us. Not that I gave much of anything.
I’ll never forget the day I woke up and found I had finally broken him.
???
I look down at him sleeping after our night of fun, a smile on my face as I take in my hard work. His body is covered in tiny scabs and cuts, and even a stick figure burnt into the flesh on his shoulder. I look at his lips, cracked and bleeding, his naked body filthy.
It’s been two weeks since he’s been off the chain, two weeks of pain and fun.
“Good morning, Pet!” I exclaim, ready to start again. He immediately scrambles up from his place on the ground and sits at attention. I frown, cocking my head to the side as I make my way over to him. His eyes watch mine, the usual animosity gone.
“Good morning, Teddy,” he says, and my eyes widen a fraction. He’s never once willingly called me Teddy before. I watch him, not sure what to do with this turn. He’s listened well enough, but there’s always been that defiance underneath. Until now. After a few minutes, I grab a blade off my side table and hand it to him.
“Cut yourself.”
Without hesitation, he takes the knife and looks up to me. “Where?”
???
At first, I was ecstatic until I realized how fucking boring it was. Jane loves it, of course. Having her own little fucking slave. For the last six months or so, she’s been taking him with her everywhere like a fucking puppy. I know who she really envisions Branson as, though. Like controlling him and turning him into a puppet will make up for what happened to her.
Jane only gets more erratic by the day and I find myself spending more time on my own, away from her and the fucked-up thing she turned Branson into.
After learning so many techniques, I began to recognize Jane’s manipulation better. I always figured her for a psychopathic narcissist, but it isn’t until more recently I’ve managed to really see. She thinks she can control me, but she has no idea.
I make my way upstairs, only to hear some thumps coming from Jane’s room. When I get there, she’s putting things into a bag, a picture of calm as opposed to only minutes ago.
“What are you doing?” I ask incredulously.
“I need to leave for a few days, a week at most.”
Frowning, I step into the room.
“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”
She shakes her head. “Not important, we’ll talk about it when I get home.”
“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?”
She doesn’t answer, and I take a breath in preparation for this gamble.
“Is this to do with your mom? With Robert?” I ask.
She turns quickly, stepping right up to my face, and I hiss instinctively at the sudden approach. Her black eyes stare into mine with warning.
“I don’t know what you think you know, child,” she says patronizingly, “but stay out of my business. I’ll be back next week.”
My jaw clenches, and I watch as she finishes packing, my brain rolling over everything.
???
