Footsteps sounded above us, and I fixated on the cadence.
Slow.
Measured.
Natalie.
Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.
Creaaaaaaaaaak.
The cellar entrance opened, and I didn’t bother to look at the Mistress. She descended the stairs like something drifting down from another world, and her high heels clicked in the silence that her presence brought with her. Her robe trailed behind her like a shadow, and she stopped just behind me.
Biggie immediately started sobbing harder, and the sound made me giggle.
“Please—”
She slipped her hand over my shoulder and pressed her acid kiss on my neck.
Burning…I was burning.
Her expression shifted, and I turned toward her. It wasn’t anger, at least not at first.
Just…disappointment.
Like always.
“Cry Baby,” she said quietly, almost like a lover.
Almost.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“What is this?”
I glanced back at Biggie, who was gnawing on the manacle on his leg like a rabid animal. He refused to meet our gaze, and his clothing reeked of piss.
The yellow tint would make such beautiful paint.
“This man ruined my sale, Mistress. He is the replacement. He’s…emotional right now, but I will prepare him. You don’t need to worry.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line that felt like it could be a smile.
“I hate crying. You know this, and you know what happens.”
Biggie didn’t stop bawling, and the sound made my ears itch.
“Please. I’ll do anything…anything.”
Mistress passed me and slowly approached him, where he was crumpled on the floor. When her burning gaze landed fully on him, he shrank back, tugging against the chain like he might melt into the floor, and it could swallow him whole.
She crouched in front of him and twirled a lock of her deep brown hair in her fingers.
“Anything?” she asked softly, the illusion of calm and poise.
He nodded violently, and the chain rattled harder on the concrete ground.
“Yes. Yes…anything.”
