I take the freak’s hand and run it over the failure’s shoulder. Goosebumps freckle the failure’s skin; an automatic reaction even in its non-responsive state. The body always reacts. As I cup the freak’s hand, my groin stirs. Together, we massage the failure’s breasts, the nipples no doubt hardening under the freak’s palm.
The freak’s skin flushes. Pressure expands my chest. Next to the failure, I’m strongly reminded that the freak is only in her twenty-fifth year. I am eager to watch her mature and evolve under my control. Age won’t deter my insatiable desire for her; it will only make me want her more.
“This specimen was once as sun-kissed as you when you first entered the Ambrose Asylum,” I say. “As your skin is beginning to show, and like the failure’s skin demonstrates, a lack of sunlight will diminish any evidence of sun worship.”
The freak scans the failure’s body, perhaps searching for clues of my attraction to it. In truth, I haven’t had any use for these failed experiments in years. The process of transforming women into dolls became dull. Yes, there were decent challenges, though no one piqued my interest; they were merely ways to get me one step closer toward my ultimate goal. But once Violet turned eighteen, my energy renewed. I had no interest in her yet, but it was an indication her maturation period was closer than ever. Only seven more years, and she would be mine.
Thus, I started mentoring Oliver, my computer engineering specialist, and I manipulated his bright brain to reach its full potential. I wanted to guarantee the microchip would be ready by the time she returned to me.
So I collected this failure, hoping the resemblance would satiate my needs for the time being while we installed different versions of the microchip in its brain.
It didn’t satisfy me.
“Da—” She stops herself. Her knuckles flutter under mine, and she touches her collar with her free hand. She must be wondering what my title is, now that she’s wearing my collar. My cock contracts, arousal building in my groin.
“You may still address me as Daddy,” I say.
“Daddy,” she whispers. “Did you get her because she reminded you of me?”
I chuckle. Oh, how the sweet thing clings to the hope that even when I wasn’t with her, I still yearned for her. And in a way, I did. I knew the specimen would have a similar outward appearance to the freak, and for a short while, that was enough to motivate me.
Obsession always brings us back to our knees. I may not behave like a normal person does, but I am and always have been completely dedicated to my freak. And thus, I understand her need for that promise of loyalty. What is the next test I’m moments from administering on her, if not another way to prove her loyalty to me?
I tug her leash to the counter a few feet away and open a drawer. Inside, there are scalpels, speculums, drills, saws: medical tools resembling weapons, if you will. Anything a man may need to assist him with transforming individual women into Living Dolls, weapons the freak may be tempted to use as well.
The freak’s hand runs over the handles, her delicate fingers hesitant. I unlock the leash from her collar; the chain clinks on the floor.
The pile of metal waste lies at our feet.
The freak whirls around; our eyes meet. Her dark irises flicker with emotion; I’m unable to identify it though. Is it trepidation? Lust? Fear? Hope?
She could use the leash to choke me to death. She could also use the scalpel to stab my neck. She could also run until she found a safe place to hide. With what I’ve put her through and her past determination to kill me, there should be animosity between us.
But that’s not what I see in her. I don’t know what it is, but it’s something else.
My shoulders tingle. “Go on,” I taunt us both. “Show me.”
“Show you what, Daddy?”
“You know, sweet one.”
She flinches, and her gaze drifts from my neck to the chain. Is she planning my demise? She hasn’t tried to choke me to death yet…
She lifts her chin. “Show you that there’s no one else but us?”
Desire floods my veins, my cock tenting my trousers. “What a good answer.” I dig my fingernails into her hips. “Now, show me how badly you want the bitch to suffer.”
I spin the freak around to the drawer. She removes a scalpel, then draws closer to the failure. Giddiness flows through my limbs, a lightheaded sensation causing my shoulders to rise; I am a balloon full of helium, floating toward the clouds. Are there parts of Violet lingering inside of the freak, feigning obedience to get closer to killing me, or has she fully given herself over to her new life as my toy?
Forcing a defiant cunt into submission will be entertaining. On the other hand, her obedience will fulfill me too. Whatever she chooses to do with the scalpel, I’ll enjoy it.
A scream erupts from the freak as she jabs her hand forward, the scalpel penetrating the failure’s throat. It gurgles, choking on its own blood. The freak removes the scalpel, then stabs the failure’s cheek. Its chest. The other side of its neck. Blood sprays her skin.
My mouth pulls upward into a malicious smile. I bare my teeth, pleasure and power overflowing within me. These failed specimens are a symbol of the freak’s jealousy, her need to possess my full attention. They are evidence she must share me with them or she must destroy them to claim me as her own.
Her father and her owner.
The failure lies limp in the chair, held up only by the belt straps. Blood dashes the freak, her fingers loose around the scalpel. My heart races, an overwhelming sense of pride washing over me, and my lungs inflate, pulling me higher and wider. I couldn’t be prouder of what I’ve accomplished.
