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16
Cole
The call from the hospital reported that her father was doing better. He'd probably be released for the second time within days.
I'd give her time and then I'd bring her back. She fascinated me. She still needed me.
And she was my property. My motives weren't all altruistic. I was more concerned with my pleasure than her salvation, and my healing cures over her eventual cure.
Marilyn had gone for the day. Michelle had come and gone, begging me to take her back. Michelle was such a true masochist, I wasn't certain but that my refusals spurred her pleasure.
But Lily. Annie. Whatever name she was going by now. She was special. She was a fighter and even knowing she needed help, she hated to reach out for it so much she'd fight it all the way down.
Because she had to be broken before she could be mended.
So I walked through the room where I intended to break her and I touched the things that were already there and cataloged those I needed. Benches. Crosses. Chairs. Restraints. Leather, metal, rope. Brushes, crops, whips, slappers, paddles. Canes. A variety of lovely canes.
She'd feel those soon enough. With every implement that met her flesh, every cry I wrung from her, she'd fight harder. With every step she took away from her addiction she'd feel change and fight it, because that was her nature.
The drug could help her. The discipline could help her. Being broken and mended would help her.
And she'd fight every step. She'd fight me every step.
She'd fight.
And then she'd submit.
Her submission would be a gift. Her debasement would be the salvation she sought, and the pleasure I demanded.
The latest reports said she was in Seattle again. Her father was ill, again, but recovering. She'd be free of that soon and find the family's hospital bills strangely already covered. She'd know, but no one else could.
She'd redouble her efforts to find me.
Maybe I'd allow it. Or maybe not. Because the PD was ready to put her back on and in short order, put her back undercover.
I thought then she'd fall. I thought her fall was necessary before the cure. To bring her back in now, when she was using but coping, it wouldn't be as close to losing everything as she loved. It wouldn't be as close to total collapse.
So I'd wait. And I'd build up the room where I would enjoy her every scream.
