Cry Baby

Prologue

Icounted the links of chain leading from my collar on my neck to the wall.

At least numbers were honest. They didn’t lie. They didn’t cheat. They didn’t make you kneel in a basement breaking your body until there was nothing but disgust and…need.

One.

Two.

Three.

The metal scraped against the concrete as I shifted my weight. My black metal collar tugged at my throat, my constant reminder that freedom wasn’t a word in my vocabulary. I hadn’t known freedom since I was nine, when Mistress chose me to become her new pet.

I used to think I was special enough to earn her praise. I craved her rewards and feared her punishments. None of the others had lasted as long as I had.

I am number one.

My wrists ached from gripping the sides of the wall where I’d been painting, spreading mud, rust, spit, and my own blood into long streaks. My fingerprints smeared across my bare chest, veins of brown and red coating me in a cool layer of protection.

Fourteen.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

The wall was messy, and my body was worse. I refused to wear clothes. All the ones provided to me ended up as another tool for creating my art.

This one is beautiful.

Rusted sins.

Crosses were scratched across my skin, through the rusty mixture, and I cut my flesh with my fingernail until I felt the art come alive from my fresh blood.

No.

This is wrong.

It is too cold.

I liked watching my mistakes dry into something that could be reborn. Blood and dirt, layered like scars on the stone around me.

All the marks were paintings. Only I could understand their meaning.

An art only I could love.

Seventeen.

Eighteen.

Footsteps sounded above my head, and I touched my thumb to each finger pad. She was in the drawing room.

Click, click, click.

Every click of my Mistress’s heels made my blood boil and my dick grow painfully hard.

I knew the heels she wore now. They were the black ones, with lace running down the sides.

She knew they were my favorite. My hands traced the scar of the heel print on my ribs.

It was healing, but I could still feel the imperfections beneath the paint. She was coming back for me.

Three days was too long without seeing her face.

I needed the subtle hit of her cinnamon perfume and the salt on her skin. I needed anything she would give me, like I was an addict.

Eight steps.

The thumps above my head made me feel calmer, and my heartbeat slowed as I continued to follow her path with my fingertips.

She paused, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Why? Why has it stopped?

Alarmed, I walked the expanse of my room and pulled my chains. Barely, I could reach the chair, and when I stepped onto the metal seat, I craned my neck to the ceiling.

Two more steps, and the door creaked open.

“Cry Baby. Where are you, Pet?”

Fuck.

I didn’t turn immediately when the spicy perfume hit my nose. I kept my body turned away from her, smearing and dragging my fingers in wide loops across my skin with my newly mixed paint.

This visit was needed. It was an obsession.

“Cry Baby, you are filthy. Must we discuss how cleanliness matters every time? You are disgusting. I cannot speak to you when you smell of shit and blood,” she said. Her husky voice was smooth.

My sweet poison.

“It’s art,” I muttered. “I don’t care what you fucking think of me. I create beauty. Beauty can smell like filth. Just sniff your own poison, bitch..”

Her laugh cut the air, ringing sharp and beautiful in my ears.

Dangerous.

I stepped off the seat, finally looking at her, letting the loose chain slide beside me as I walked toward her. My hands moved slowly over my body, stroking my thickness and watching her nostrils flare. She wanted me. She always wanted me.

She is the poison I need to keep breathing.

My most hated obsession.

I wasn’t a child anymore. My body was toned from my workouts, and at age twenty, I could crush her if I wanted. I could shove her against the wall and end her life in a heartbeat.

I could.

But I also...

Can’t.

“Tonight, Cry Baby,” she said, stepping closer, “You need to bathe and present yourself the way you’ve been taught.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, continuing my stroking until my dick hurt from the rough touch.

“Why? What do you want of your prized bitch tonight? Need my come, Mistress? Let me paint you, you fucking whore.”

Her breath caught as I moaned and slammed my hand down harder on my thickness. The blood and mud glistened with precome. Her bottom lip was chewed to hell, but she didn’t move forward.

Clink.

My body stopped. I couldn’t move forward. I couldn’t reach the bitch in front of me. My chains held me back when she was just out of range.

“Stop this nonsense, Cry Baby. I need you strong.”

I smirked at her, pulling forward until my collar cut into my neck, the blood dribbling down my chest and lower, onto my hand, as I jerked my cock faster.

“I said stop.”

Adrenaline fueled my blood, and I slammed my fist down harder and faster, not breaking my gaze from her wicked piercing blue eyes.

“You know what happens when you defy me, Pet,” she warned, and those spiky red nails dragged down the concrete walls, making my head scream and my hand falter.

“Open up, Mistress.”

I kept going, my muscles taut and screaming, my head throbbing from the horrible noise of her nails.

“Fuck. You!”

My come coated the floor, hitting her body and soaking into her deep black pantsuit.

Her smile was wicked as she leaned closer to me, just a breath away from my lips. I couldn’t move forward. My collar already choked me.

“Good boy, Cry Baby. You’re such a good pet. That’s why you’re hunting tonight.”

I stuck my tongue forward, trying to reach her lips, but she pulled back enough to dodge me.

You want a killer, Natalie?

“Yes, Mistress. Anything for you.”

Her manicured eyebrows pulled together, and she let her guard down, letting herself get too close to my grip. I waited, letting her circle me. In the corner of my area, I had tied a bag to my bed. Before she could guess my movements, I grabbed my plastic bag from the bed and lunged for her.

Her eyes flicked to it in my grip, and she smirked as I pushed her against the wall.

That goddamn smile made me want to kill her and fuck her at the same time.

“You always ask me for my bark, Mistress,” I said, pressing my body closer to her, feeling my chains scrape the ground.

I reveled in her gasp as I shoved her back against the wall, locking her down with my knee and my hand on her throat, the plastic bag digging into her skin.

She didn’t resist my hold, just kept smiling.

“Here’s my fucking bite! I could kill you, Natalie. End your fucking life and use your corpse as my personal sex toy.”

She tilted her head into the grip. “You could,” she whispered. “But you won’t. You hate me, but you need me.”

I shoved the bag over her head for half a second, feeling my heart hammer and my fingers tremble.

I need this.

I need her death.

The thrill of having her vulnerable tasted fucking delicious.

I had absolute control.

Her pulse raced against my palm, rapid and unsteady, but her smile, dimly seen through the plastic of the bag, never faltered. Sharp grating laughter cut through my ritual, making me shake.

“Bite me, Pet. Go ahead.”

I stared at the evil cunt under the plastic and then, with a growl, I yanked it away.

“Goddamn it,” I muttered. “Fuck you…”

Her body pressed into mine, my dick already hard again and ready.

Her hips brushed against my flesh, and those fucking talons scraped down my chest in a frenzy of pain and blood.

Hissing, I narrowed my gaze and locked her arms above her head.

“You love what I do to you, don’t you, Cry Baby? You need me. I am your master.”

I shoved away from her.

I can’t hurt her.

And she knows it.

“Fuck you. I am owned by no one,” I growled.

“Aww,” she purred, her ruby red lips brushing my ear. “You hate me. You love me. You need me. Do you want a punishment or a reward, my beautiful pet? Stop lying to yourself. This is growing tedious. Every day you try to kill me, and every day you end up on your knees.”

Before I could stop her, her sharp heels knocked me down to the ground, and my knees hit the hard concrete.

“Much better. Right where you belong.”

“I hate this,” I said through gritted teeth, salivating at her anticipated wetness when she popped the buttons to her pants and let them fall.

The thin see-through panties were wrecked.

“You make me…” I swallowed, forcing myself to sit on my hands, feeling my chest tighten at her beckoning.

“I will kill you. I will fucking kill you.”

Her fingers traced down my face, teasing the scars.

“So hard and needy, Cry Baby,” she whispered. “And that…is why you’re mine. You belong to me. I’m yours to please. Lick me dry, my pet, until you cannot breathe. You will make me come.”

She pressed closer to me, trapping my face in her bare heat. My head screamed with the temptation and the danger.

My teeth ground together, trying to stop her claws from opening my mouth.

Rage, hunger, and need tangled in my chest while her cunt pulsed in my face.

“I will drown you in your own blood,” I muttered, unable to keep my mouth from opening to her.

She tilted her head down to look at me, her eyes dark and wicked. “And yet…you belong to me. What will you do when you are finally alone? I am your air. Sometimes it is pain, and sometimes it is joy, but always, it is life.”

My mouth followed the familiar rhythm of knowing her body. For so long, I had been on my knees for her. For so long, I had broken down to become nothing but her pleasure.

“Who do you belong to, Cry Baby?” she moaned, suffocating me with her liquids.

I licked, sucked, and swallowed all of her pleasure. I let the hate burn in my chest, my lips tight, and my jaw aching. Every instinct screamed to spit in her face, rip her cunt to pieces, and run.

And yet…

I swallowed what she gave to me, keeping my voice low but full of venom and want all at once.

“You…” I growled, listening to her orgasm. When she came down from the high, she looked at me expectantly, and I sighed, finishing the words I said every time and hated with every ounce of my body. “Mistress.”

Her smile widened as she pulled away from me, making me hit the floor as she held my chains down with her heel.

“Good,” she whispered, letting the words hang. “Never forget it.”

I hate her.

I love her.

I need her.

She’s right…

I can’t live without her.