43. Conrad
W hy won’t she say it? Why can’t she just pretend for once? I wouldn’t even care if she didn’t mean it. Hell, I know she doesn’t mean it, yet.
But she won’t even play along. She’s so damned insolent, so fucking defiant.
I storm out of the room, going to grab something, anything that will hurt her enough that she understands. But nothing has worked so far, has it?
It doesn’t matter how many times I fuck her, how many times I shock her, the bitch won’t learn.
I need to do something more. Something worse.
I need to make her understand once and for all that this is her life, this is her future.
I come to a sudden stop as I realise what I can do. But is it too far? No, no it fucking isn’t. In so many ways, it’s not nearly far enough.
By the time I walk back into that room, I’ve made my mind up and I know this is the right decision, the logical one.
She looks at the weapon in my hand and she shakes her head, her eyes imploring me for mercy. But where was my mercy? Where was my god given respect?
All she’s done from the moment I brought her here is fight me, and I’m done with it. Done with the bullshit.
I tried to play fair, I tried to give her time. The softly- softly approach didn’t work. Now it’s time for the stick.
“You did this.” I state as I place the thing down with a thump and start unbinding her, manoeuvring her so that she’s lying on her front, with her entire back exposed.
“You had to be a little bitch, you had to keep fighting me…” I loop the rope back around, tying it firmly against the livid marks on her skin.
“Please,” She sobs, “I’ll be good, I’ll be…”
“It’s too fucking late.” I snarl. She always begs and pleads when she’s faced with the consequences, well maybe now she’ll understand once and for all that I am not fucking around. That this is not a game.
I reach for the mallet, straddling her thighs. She jerks enough that I know she’s trying to buck me off, but her feeble attempts do nothing more than piss me off further. Again, she refuses to accept my decisions. She refuses to submit.
“I will break you.” I state. “I will fucking break you. And then you will understand.”
“No…” She screams out, right as I lift the mallet up and I aim for her lower back, where her spine meets her buttocks.
I don’t want to hit too high. I don’t want to turn her into a complete invalid. I want her to keep use of her arms, I want her to be able to caress me, to jerk me off, to cup my cheeks and to kiss me.
But her legs. Her legs have to go. Her legs have to be rendered useless.
She doesn’t need them anyway, not when she has me in her life. I can carry her wherever she needs to go. And this way, this way she’ll never be able to run from me again.
She doesn’t need to walk.
She doesn’t need to dance or do anything but lay here and let me fuck her.
That is her purpose. That is her reason for existence. She’ll be my literal doll. A living, breathing toy that I can move and manipulate however I choose.
I bring the mallet down again and there’s a sickening crunch as it makes contact. She screams harder, louder.
It sets goosebumps all over my skin and on some level, I hate that I’m hurting her, but she asked for this. She bloody well deserves it.
The stench of faeces reaches my nose, and I realise she’s shit herself. I guess that’s to be expected with such an injury.
I look down, seeing the dark stain already soiling the bed.
Her skin is mottled, blackening, and I can see a lump already forming where the mallet crushed her bones.
She’s face down in the pillow, gasping, sobbing, heaving as much as I am in this moment.
“Wiggle your toes.’ I order.
She doesn’t react. She doesn’t move. Maybe it’s because the mallet has done its job, or maybe it’s because she’s still being a defiant little bitch.
I toss the mallet, letting it clang onto the floor, and then I’m undoing the bindings. I grab hold of her right leg, yanking it up. She cries out in protest but as I let go, I can see from the way it drops, from the way it falls that she no longer has any control over it.
Triumph soars in my heart. I let out a laugh filled with relief.
And then I lay down beside her, pulling her into my arms.
“It’s okay,” I murmur as I cradle her now shattered body and press it into mine. “You’re okay. Everything is as it’s meant to be now.”
She’s taking long, sharp breaths like she’s hyperventilating, like the pain is too much for her to handle.
“You’re okay,” I murmur. She’s more than okay, she’s perfect now. She’s completely dependent on me. Brynn will never take a step again, she’ll never go anywhere unless I physically take her there.
She’s mine in every sense of the word.