I couldn’t think of a better way to die than Azrael’s hands with his warm eyes lingering on my skin.
“Ah,” he hummed, the sound falling gracefully over my skin, “I saw that. You do hear me.”
I never said I didn’t.
I never said anything.
Ever.
I just listened and obeyed. Obeyed and listened. It was the only thing I had left in this world. My obedience.
“Stand. I don’t like this.”
I wanted to take a second to brace myself for the movement, but that was against the rules, so I pushed myself up immediately, wincing, pressing my lips together against the whimper that threatened to escape.
My eyes fell to the desk as I straightened, my hands shaking as I fought the urge to grab my stomach.
God, it hurt.
I could feel his presence behind me like most claimed they felt God.
“Turn.”
I did, the warmth of his eyes traveling around my body until they rested on my face. He was looking at me, and I wondered, once again, what his eyes might look like. What his smile might be. How tall he was.
He felt tall. When he was standing beside me, he felt very tall. Taller than the world.
“You’re such a doll, little sinner,” he said, that smile touching the lilt in his voice, causing a shiver to run down my spine.
It was the first time anyone had called me such a thing, and a small part of me felt something at his words. I couldn’t put a name to it, but it felt…not good, but something heavier. What was a word heavier than ‘good’?
“You’re such a doll, little sinner.”A doll, that’s what I was. A perfect little puppet.
He was quiet for a few seconds, and I wondered what he was doing. Inspecting the merchandise? That’s what Pastor Masters said the other Leaders did. Making sure that we were good enough for whomever chose us.
“I don’t like what he put you in, far from my taste. Do you ever pick your own clothes?”
I kept my eyes down and my hands folded in front of me. He hadn’t yet pulled out his cock. I wondered why. Most everyone couldn’t wait to start touching themselves in front of me. Perhaps I wasn’t good enough for him.
If that was the case, would I get punished for not helping him orgasm? Or would Thomas be happy that Azrael couldn’t orgasm in front of me?
Was I only pretty enough for old men? I wanted to be pretty enough for him. Pretty enough for him to kill.
The cane suddenly touched the underside of my chin, causing me to flinch. The cool metal gently eased my chin up and Icomplied, my eyes falling shut as he lifted my head until I was sure he could see my full face.
“Hmm,” he pondered. “It’s supposed to be the opposite. When you lay a doll down, their eyes fall closed, when you pick it up…” His worlds trailed off. “You follow their rules well.”
Theirrules. I caught that, Azrael. Is this a test? He must know that I wouldn’t break them. I had been taught each and every one of them very carefully. I knew them all. I would not break them.
“Look at me,” he ordered softly, that cane remaining under my chin.
But I wouldn’t. I would never break that rule.
He waited a moment. “Lift your right arm and wrap your hand around my cane.”
I did as I was told, wrapping my hand tightly around the end of his cane, the wood cool under my grip, smooth.
“So fearless when obedient,” he purred. “This cane has killed people,” he informed me quietly. “It’s sliced deep into the flesh of the innocent and the guilty, I haven’t kept track, I just like to kill. The end of it has been blood soaked, it’s shattered bones. Will you react to that, I wonder.”
