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I take another tack. “You like to pretend that you’re compassionate, right? Well, spare some for her. She is a little girl who’s never grown up. My father broke into her trailer home, killed her parents in front of her, and raped her that same night, when she was twelve. That went on for a year. He used her whenever he’d hurt my mother too badly. Ripped open every hole, made her bleed. Elizabeth suffered internal injuries so bad that she’s permanently scarred inside. I brought her out of that Hell, and she depends on me for protection. She is the only person in my life who’s ever actually cared about me. So I will not tolerate you attacking her.”
She just meets my gaze steadily, without an ounce of fear. Grown men would be pissing themselves at this point, but not my Toy.
“She only cares about you because she’s fucked in the head. She’s a selfish cow who’s helping to keep another human being prisoner, and therefore she’s every bit as much my enemy as you are. Given the first opportunity, I will kill her. And you. God, I hope it’s both of you. Why are you wasting so much time on me? Do you think you can make me back into Toy again? Even you can’t be that stupid.”
Enraged, I spin her around and bend her arm up behind her back hard enough to make her scream. I keep bending it. “Say you’re sorry and call me master!”
“Eat shit and die, motherfucker! Ahhhh!” She screams in pain, but she won’t obey my orders. She would rather let me break her arm.
And I don’t want to break her.
I ease up a little bit and force her up the stairs and into the bathroom. I have been defeated, for the moment. I need to regroup and figure out how to regain control of this situation. But first I need to get that godawful stink off her.
“Get in. No bath. Shower.”
She gives me a flat, cold look.
Before she gets in, she peels off the bandage that Elizabeth has changed for her every day. It reveals a raw, red line going vertically up her arm, tracing the path of her cephalic vein, and a shiver of anger burns through me. The idea of Toy wanting to leave me in any way, escaping by killing herself, really pisses me off.
Hot water streams over her and streaks through the filth coating her slim body. She’s tense and remote, staring at the tile wall in front of her, no longer desperately seeking direction from me with her pleading gaze. I stand there, watching her slowly soap herself off, and I realize that my cock is rock hard and desire is flooding through me. This girl, this is the one who turns me on.
The broken, vacant eyed, fearful slave who crawled for me? She made me sick.
Toy tips back her head and opens her mouth, letting the warm water rush in, drinking it thirstily. I stare at her parted lips and imagine them wrapped around my cock. Except now I realize that there’s a real risk she’d bite my dick right off.
After the shower, I have her dress in cotton pants, t-shirt, and bra. I always keep half a dozen outfits for her in the bathroom.
I put the short chains on her ankles, out of spite. I reach for the thick collar. She looks at me. “Put that on me, and I won’t eat. You can shove a tube down my throat and force me, blah blah blah, big man that you are, but sooner or later, you’re going to get bored with me as a vegetable, and you’ll just fucking end this shit-show that’s my life. Now, where are those skinning knives you promised me?”
I can’t let her continue to defy me like this, so I give her an out. “You don’t want the collar? Get down on the floor and kiss my feet.”
She stares at me for a long moment, too long, then lifts one shoulder in a casual, insolent shrug, moving reasonably quickly. She presses her lips against each foot then sits up. The expression on her face is bored, and she didn’t say, “Yes, Master.”
I still don’t know what I’m going to do about this, but I realize that I don’t have to decide right away. This is a new experience, and I crave new experiences, don’t I? I can learn from this. I can stop anytime I want to. I can change directions. I can bend her to my will again when I choose, but right now, I have a front-row seat to a show featuring a facet of human behavior that is brand-new to me. So I will study and learn, and I will win in the end.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
I bring her into the playroom and chain her up with her hands over her head, hauling her up until she’s on her tiptoes. Then I leave to fetch us some dinner, which Elizabeth prepared earlier. Part of me is hoping that leaving her dangling in the playroom like that will psych her out and weaken her, but I don’t think it will have the effect I want.
And indeed, when I return and lower her to the ground, she just curses at me.
I take her to the table, and she glances down at it with a flicker of contempt. I’ve set the table with paper plates and plastic cutlery and plastic cups, so she can’t use anything to hurt herself.
She settles down, her expression pinched with disgust, and I examine this strange new creature curiously. What do I want from her?
I am part furious, part fascinated.
I will try a different approach tonight.
“I have a problem at work, Toy,” I tell her.
A frown puckers her forehead. “That’s not my name.”
“That’s what I’m going to fucking well call you, and you will answer to it.” I’ve let things go too far. I’ve got to regain some control. I’m still working out the new rules of our existence in my head, but I will not tolerate this continued disrespect.
“So, back to my problem at work, Toy.”
She looks at me as if I’ve grown antennae. Complete bafflement. “Tamara. And why are you telling me about it?”
