Or maybe he’salsorecalling the other times. Occasional flickers of somethingelse…
It’s been nearly three years since I gave him that bike. And here we still are, so much further from where we started, but somehow inexactlythe same place.
I’m patiently waiting, making and taking calls, as I do. As if nothing has changed, when it most certainly has.
Governor Russo calls me to mention something about the funding, but I’m barely listening. I’m busy remembering something that happened a few weeks ago… The night of the storm.
Byron needed his Michelangelo, if only just for the night.
Dascha needed his own shadow man. HisOfficer, who left him alone when he really should have stayed.
As it turns out, proxy is just as entertaining when I’m bestowing it upon others, no matter how unsuspecting, or evenunconsciousthey are to it.
Surely toying with human lives shouldn’t be this much fun, but itisand I can’t help that.
This life,mylife… It isn’treal. It’s the facade that I’ve built, an empire of manipulation and trickery. This isn’tmedoing these things…It’s The Ivory.
The smug, cynical sociopath with no regard for human life. That’s me, because it’s who Ihaveto be. I’m notManuel Blanco… I haven’t been him for a long time.
I’m not the good king, like my father wanted me to be.
I’m El Diablo.
The monster who killed Angelito’s parents right in front of him.Thatis who I am, nothing more than a villain on a throne of deceit.
And when I finally hear the trudging footsteps, marching up to seal his fate, I’m at ease, assured. For better or worse, this is how it must be. Of that, I am certain.
More than a week has passed since we lost Dash, and Jonathan has been mine ever since.
Sometimes I let him go for a few hours. But he always comes back.
Back to his place, at my feet. Collared and leashed, where hebelongs.
Mine.
It’s intoxicating… The way he knows he’s strong enough to fight back, to overpower me.Shit, he could rip me to shreds if he wanted to.
But he won’t. Even if he wants to, which I’m not fully certain he even does… He won’t do it.
‘Broken down over time, even the most feral of subjects become obedient house pets, domesticated into undying loyalty and submission by their master.’
Beneficial Brainwashing, Dr. Melvin Strange
I had dinner with Dr. Love a few nights ago. Took him into Manhattan by helicopter. We dined and drank and talked for hours. It was great. Just what I’ve been needing.
I would rather pluck my own eyes out than ever admit this to him, but Yari might’ve been right… about me needing a friend.Even thinking the words feels way toopurple singing dinosaurfor me.
Still, Lemuel and I had a good time. But I was itching to get back to the island; back to my study where my loyal pet was waiting for me, right where I’d left him.
The prison is on lockdown. The entire island, in fact.
There must be consequences for such gross negligence, and it’s not fair that only Officer Chevelle suffer them. So I’ve put an end to any and all recreation.
No more parties. No more contraband for prisoners. I even had Jonathan confiscate what they’d stored up.
You see, they’ve had iteasyup until now, and if they’d made the mistake of thinking things couldn’t get anyworsein the Pen, well… to that I said,hold my fucking scotch.
I left Jonathan in my office for the night after another particularly grueling evening of punishment and degradation for my wicked animal. The orgasm he gave me with his mouth had me fuzzy for minutes after, but I’m still unable to sleep. Something just feels..off.
