Under Your Care

Chapter ​9

Chapter 9

Greyson

Six Weeks Ago

I smiled, the perfect picture of professional empathy, and offered Mrs. Brady the box of tissues I kept in my office. She looked at me like I was a saint, eyes sparkling amidst her pathetic tears. I had hoped when she first became a client that she’d be a welcome change of pace from my regular clientele of idiotic, bimbo trophy wives. I hoped that Mrs. Brady, being of an older generation, would want to discuss her fears of dying, the grief of watching her childhood friends drop one by one - something interesting. Alas, she turned out to just be the elderly version of my other clients. She was currently sniveling about her granddaughter “breaking tradition” by planning to have a destination wedding in Italy.

“I just cannot understand it! It’s like she’s spitting in my face,” she dramatically cried. “She’s going to cause her father a heart attack– I just know it!”

She waved her arms around wildly, motioning this way and that. I nodded, contorting my face to appear sympathetic. I did have the capability to feel real sympathy, it was just reserved for those I found deserving. And Mrs. Brady? Undeserving.

I was surprisingly and uncharacteristically hopeful for the new client I was scheduled to see next. Lane Bennett, twenty-one years old, male, with previous bouts of therapy. Even if Mr. Bennett ended up being a spoiled college brat, at least he’d be someone new for me to play with. Plant some memories here and there.

The moment my clock hit six o’clock, I clapped my hands together and rather happily escorted Mrs. Brady out of my office to the reception area.

“Alright, Mrs. Brady, I’ll see you back next month. Make sure to schedule your next visit with Amelia before heading out. I’ll be waiting to hear how everything goes.”

Or just never some back, that’d be much appreciated.

Feeling the weight of a gaze bearing into my body, I turned, my eyes drifting to who must be Lane. He was fidgeting in one of our pale yellow chairs.

My thoughts faltered for a moment as I laid my eyes upon the sweetest morsel I had ever seen. Shoulder-length, tousled, light red hair, porcelain skin showered in freckles, a small, doll-like frame dressed in feminine clothing, eyes the depth of the ocean with flecks of seaweed. Such an anxious, desperate look behind his eyes, almost as if he was subconsciously begging for me to save him.

Save him, I would. My little fawn. I could already see him spread across my bed, draped in lace and diamonds, decorated with a constellation of my bruises. I willed my hardening cock into submission, although it was quite difficult when he was looking at me like he’d wholeheartedly consent to me tackling him to the floor and slamming my cock into his tight hole, my hand twisted in his hair.

“Mr. Bennett, thank you for waiting. You can follow me and we’ll get started.”

I wondered if he could also feel that he was mine.

???

Two Weeks Earlier

It had been pitifully easy to locate and extract Lane’s cousin from the shithole of a trailer he called home. I looked vacantly down at his presently broken, mutilated, and burned body. He stared up at me - terrified - with his beady, bloodshot eyes, whining like a little bitch through his gag. I was reluctantly coming to terms with the fact that he was far too annoying to keep alive for two years. I thought back to when he had first awoken from the effects of the sedation.

It was risky, but I ultimately decided not to gag Tate - I wanted to hear him try to talk his way out of my web. His facial muscles had just started to twitch. I figured that meant he’d be waking up within the next five or so minutes. I sat on a metal chair about ten feet away from his disgusting, dangling body, letting my mind wander to daydreams of my little fawn helplessly tied to my bed. I adjusted my growing erection.

My plan was all moving forward at a speed I had not expected. I had to be patient - I’d have Lane wrapped around me soon enough.

In the meantime, I could take some of my darker urges out on this scum.

“Ahhhhhhhh! Fuck - What the FUCK!” Aforementioned scum had finally become conscious. Due to his thrashing, he was what I would imagine a human-sized pendulum would look like. Tate continued his screaming until he locked eyes with me.

So many emotions in that tiny brain of his - imagine my surprise. Fear gave way to confusion which in turn became desperation.

“I don’t know what’s going on, man, but just tell me what you want and we’ll both walk away,” Tate blubbered, snot and tears covering his unpleasant face.

I calmly crossed my legs at the ankle, a kilowatt smile lighting up my face.

“Please, man. Please! Drugs, money, what’s your poison?” He sniveled. I wasn’t sure if he clocked the designer suit I was wearing, but money was certainly not something I needed. I happily sighed, anticipating the day when I could begin spoiling my Lane with the best.

I’d already started collecting, of course - I wanted Lane to be showered with gifts once it was time for him to move into his new home.

Tate continued his begging, offering me anything I could think of. I rolled my eyes and removed the handgun from my waist, lightly tapping it against my raised knee. There we go - he finally closed his mouth!

“Do I genuinely look so awful that I’d need bribes from a middle-aged liquor store cashier? One that’s stark naked and hanging from ceiling beams?” I politely asked, continuing the tapping of my gun.

His eyes remained glued to the weapon, even as I stood.

He sobbed, choking on his pleas, “Please, please, please– I don’t want to die! Why are you doing this?”

I brought a confused look to my face, tilting my head slightly. “Why are you being so dramatic?”

I stalked closer to him, gently shoving him so that the swaying of his body could continue to entertain me. His face blanched.

He shakily asked, “What is this, man? This a hit? You’ve got the wrong guy! I ain’t done nothing wrong!”

I smirked and shook my head in amusement. “No, I’m doing this as a sort of engagement present, per se. My fiance is an… acquaintance of yours.”

“If your fiance cheated on you, that’s not on me, man,” he whined.

“Guess again,” I smiled, pondering whether or not Lane would appreciate a trophy - probably not.

“Fuck!” He yelled, wriggling in his binds not unlike a worm on a fishing hook. Worms are beneficial to the ecosystem though. Tate certainly isn’t.

“Alright, I’ll give you a hint. You raped him.” His face drew up in confusion.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that,” he muttered, causing my brow to slightly raise. I suppose that’s not too much of a surprise.

“Lane Bennett,” I sang.

His face changed into one of disgust. “That whore put you up to this?” He sneered, “He wanted everything we ever did to him– fucking jailbait.”

My jaw clenched, I retorted, “Ah, yes, because middle school children can consent to incestual sexual abuse. Of course– how dreadfully silly of me.” I raised my gun and fired a single shot into his left foot. Feeling calmer now that he was bleeding, I continued, “I will be keeping you alive for the two years in which you were abusing him. And no, he doesn’t know about this yet.”

“He doesn’t know you’re a fucking psychopath? What two years? You can’t fucking do this, man. I just wanted to have some fun. He wanted it,” he spat, his words causing me to heartily laugh.

I smiled as I said, “Seeing how I’m not a psychopath, no, he doesn’t know that. I’m a dark empath. Quite different. And if you say one more fucking time that he wanted it, I’m going to skin you alive.”

“What the fuck! You’re fucking insane! FUCK. I doubt he’s going to marry you when you’re going around murdering people!” He yelled through his teeth, the pain from the gunshot registering.

I casually shrugged, rolling my eyes as I had to spell everything out to him, “I’m not murdering you. Yet. I’ll keep you alive for the next two years– symbolism is romantic, don’t you think? During that time, I’ll be subjecting you to severe physical and psychological torture. Then, I’ll kill you.”

His eyes widened almost comically wide as he began screaming and thrashing again in earnest.

Realistically, two years was a long time to sustain a dying man for. I still would have stuck it out, just to be able to see Lane’s awestruck face when I revealed it all, but Tate was proving to be such a headache. The thought is what counts, right?

I was truly going to be such an amazing husband.

There were so many different ways to kill Tate that it was hard to choose. On one hand, I wanted to chop his shriveled up dick off, force him to choke on it, and slit his throat. On the other hand - acid. I haphazardly ripped the gag from his mouth before asking him, “Acid or dick, pick one.”

His eyes frantically darted around my face. He choked out, “Acid?” His answer was phrased as a question, confusion dripping from his tone.

“Hmm…” I hummed, “Dick it is then. Great choice, buddy.” I shoved the gag back in his mouth before selecting a serrated knife from my toolkit. A scalpel would have been too kind. Tate weakly screamed behind his gag, shaking in his binds.

???

Current Day

I carefully measured out the appropriate dose of sedative into the syringe in my hand. The twins had assured me that this dosage wouldn’t negatively affect my darling, but just keep him sleeping for a bit longer while I handled the matters at hand. I knew I needed to move quickly to ensure Lane didn’t wake even a moment before he was lying safe in my bed. It’d only cause him unnecessary stress if he woke while I was moving him, and my princess didn’t need that.

He had come so well for me, adorably passing out afterwards. My own cock was hard and aching, but it needed to wait. Once this was done, I’d be able to satisfy my every sexual need. Prior to discovering my little fawn, I’d presumed that I wasn’t a sexual person. I’d had sex with many different partners, but besides feeling the pleasure of a burning, wet hole milking my dick, I mostly felt bored with the act. I never cared about my partner’s pleasure or discomfort. Their facial expressions or moans never did anything for me. But, with Lane, I wanted to squeeze every possible sound and reaction out of him. And I’d be able to, as soon as I got a move on.

After injecting the sedative into Lane’s forearm, I grabbed one of the large bags I had come with and began packing. I started at his desk, gently placing each makeup item into the bag. Next were his accessories - hair bows, barrettes, jewelry. I wasn’t planning on packing up his entire apartment tonight, but I wanted to take enough to make sure Lane was comfortable and more amenable to the move.

Anything that looked either like an essential or possibly sentimental went into the bag. Anything that I wanted him to wear went into the bag. The first bag was quickly filled, so I got to work with the next. I packed pretty much everything in his bathroom - just in case. I had already bought him much more expensive toiletries, but being able to use something familiar to him might help him with settling in.

It took about twenty minutes to pack and bring the bags down to my car. The next item of business was somehow securing the cat. I had a sedative prepped for her as well, but I knew Lane would be upset if I drugged Chloe. Luckily, she walked happily into the carrier I’d prepared for her after putting a few of her favorite treats inside. She meowed some in protest once I carried her out of the apartment, but considering I had been prepared for all-out feline warfare, it was rather easy.

Finally, I gently picked Lane up in a bridal hold, and took him out his front door for the last time. I couldn’t wait to bring him to his new home.