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She shuddered at the thought. She would have a full breakdown if it ended up moving. She would burn her house down and move to a different city or even a different country.
Maybe she should do that now.
“Come on, come on, you’ve got this,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s just a stuffed toy.”
Slowly getting out of bed, she made her way toward the zebra. The first thing she looked for was the word on the chest. Each one had a different word, and she didn’t understand why. It didn’t make any sense.
You.
That was the word embroidered on the zebra’s heart. Why?
Margery held it close as she walked out of her room and toward the living room where the other ones were. Ethan was playing some type of mind game, and it was working. Her mind was constantly on him, trying to figure out what he was doing.
She placed the newest zebra at the very end before shesat on the couch and stared at them. What was she going to do? This was getting out of control, and she didn’t know how to fix it.
She started to look at the words embroidered on the heart.
“Shit,” she whispered as her breath hitched.
Her eyes flew over the words again, not believing what she was seeing. How had she missed this?
“Daddy’s coming for you,” she muttered. “Daddy’s. Coming. For. You.”
Shit. Ethan had called himself Daddy in front of her. She could vaguely remember somebody whispering it in her ear. When it had happened, she couldn’t tell, but it felt real what she was remembering.
But how did Ethan know? She never told him she was a Little. She never got the chance to, so how did he know?
No one knew that Margery was a Little. It was a part of her she didn’t want people to know. She had read horror stories about Littles telling others, and it usually resulted in backlash.
Right now, she was content with no one knowing. Content being in Little space by herself.
Okay, that was a lie. Margery had longed for a Daddy to swoop in and take care of her, cherish her, love her, discipline her, and so much more. She wanted the cuddles… and the spankings.
Pleasure spankings, not necessarily the discipline ones.
She looked back at the stuffed animals. She did not need to be thinking about having a Daddy and pleasure spankings. Not when her mind was on Ethan the whole time.
Margery had fantasized about Ethan being her Daddy several times. But that was the thing; they were just fantasies. When she thought about them, he had been dead.
Now, he wasn’t.
And her mind was thinking about him doing it now, even though he had changed. Her mind was going back and forth about whether she found it sexy or not. She knew she shouldn’t because he was stalking her, and making her go crazy, but she couldn’t help it.
The longer she thought about him killing Max because he was going to keep her away from him, the more she was turned on. The thought of him being so possessive that he would kill for her, that was hot.
Margery never thought she would find something so horrifying to be arousing. Was she wrong for that?
“I am not thinking about this right now. I can’t be,” she muttered. “It’s crazy for me to be turned on about murder.”
But she found herself getting wet every single time she thought about it. Did that make her a bad person?
“You need to stop thinking about this,” she told herself. “It is not the time to think about this. There’s never a good time.”
Maybe she did need to talk to somebody about this. Was it normal to be turned on when somebody killed for them? Was it normal to find the man hot?
Those were all great questions that she didn’t have the answers to. She wanted to ask somebody, but she figured it probably wouldn’t end well.
Would that person check her into a facility? Would they deem her insane?
