Once out of the room, it became a norm for Guinevere to go out daily. Surprisingly her abuse of Jonah lowered as long as she was allowed to go in the library.
Though it was strangely disappointing for Jonah, it was evident that Guinevere liked the library so he was plenty okay with it.
From history to fiction to poetry, Guinevere was devouring book after book. As the days passed by, her time in the library increased. Now after a month it was so that he had to move a small bed into the library because Guinevere would often eat her meals there and fall asleep reading the armchair.
Her explicitly calm face made him feel distracted often but he was now slowly gaining control back. The sudden sadistic behavior Guinevere displayed for those ten days now seemed like a fleeting dream as if it never happened.
It was as if someone had possessed her during that time and now had exorcised itself out of her. The change was good. Submissive. But... Jonah felt a void.
He fell in love with this current sweet and tame Guinevere in the first place. He was terrified and thrilled when she suddenly made him do those humiliating things. It ached him so much he wanted to run away and just leave her there.
But still...
Something of himself attached itself to that side of her. And it wasn't letting go.
Every morning he would walk into the library, hoping to see Guinevere up and cold in the eyes. And he felt as shameful as standing naked in public when he found himself wishing she would torment him some way.
She broke him. Made him a pervert and then stopped. It was awfully unfair to him.
He would often stare at her face as she sat in the armchair beside the window, reading as if it was all left in her life, and he would imagine her pushing him down her feet, using him as a footrest. He would imagine the pain of being bitten by her and the sharp sensation of being dug in by her nails.
And it all made him disgustingly turned on. He would often rush out in the middle of these imaginary scenarios and masturbate holding those chains in his room. The chains that held her feet. That kept her bound to him.
Now they weren't needed. Another thing that happened was that Guinevere now didn't need those chains on her to be with him. She was finally maneuvered into thinking that she couldn't escape Jonah, no matter how she tried to run away from there.
But as her abuse stopped, so did her desire. The only skin ship they had now was when Jonah would pass her the food plates at meal times. Other times, they were always like 3 feet apart from each other.
Guinevere mostly treated him like air, like he didn't exist and spent her days and sometimes too, reading. Her complete ignorance of her situation and the perpetrator that put her in that situation, made Jonah infuriated.
He had had a taste now. And he wanted more. But he wasn't given any more. So he was resentful. But he couldn't treat her bad because he was resentful. He loved her too much to do that.
But he wanted attention. Guinevere's attention. In the way she would torment him for all he was putting her through. But how? How could he get her to punish him? Punish him for being a bad dog.
Suddenly, the idea hit him. All he had to do was 'be a bad dog.'
Do things that he wasn't told to do. Disobey her. Make her feel lowered.
On one fateful night, Jonah decided it was time. After the meals, that Jonah now ate together with Guinevere, she would go to her bed in the library and fall asleep reading. Jonah decided not today.
He took the empty plates from her from the dinner. But instead of taking them to the kitchen, he went to her bed and called out to her," Shortcake."
As she turned towards him, he smiled a devilish smile, as if provoking her. She stood there staring at him as if she had just now noticed his presence. He smiled so brightly she had her eyes dazzled.
And then he poured all the food leftovers in the plate on her bed. The white sheet drizzled in the mix of spices and oil as a brownish yellow hue seeped outside the portions. He laughed like a maniac as the stuff fell one by one as lump onto her bedding.
"Sleep with me, Shortcake," he cooed as he flung away the plates that crashed into the wall and broke into many piercing shards. "Your bed is ruined."
She stood there frozen and wide eyes opened as she processed what had just happened.
Jonah merrily walked over to her, fiddling with her hair that fluttered as wind blew through the window. He held her shoulder and jolted her awake as she looked straight up at him.
He shivered as he saw her eyes, filled with rage.
'Am I a masochist?' he wondered. 'Maybe I am.'
For a moment, nothing transpired between them. Even the wind stopped as if time had paused. But he could hear the gears of his darling's mind turning, figuring out his best punishment. As he looked at her eyes mapping his face, he was filled with anticipation.
And in a split second, a slap was planted across his face. He blushed as blood rush to his slapped cheeks and his ears. A hand several times smaller than own, held his hair and pushed him down with such brute force, he was immediately submitting.
He looked up at her face, he shivered. He had seen her enjoying his shame and humiliation, but never had he seen her this angry. Alas, it only turned him on more!
"Strip," Guinevere's cold and severe voice commanded.
Without another word of objection, Jonah started taking his clothes off. He smiled perversely taking his shirt off. He carefully traced his fingers on the now fading scars on his chest that carried Guinevere's name. He shivered as he imagined the pain that he felt when she had engraved it on him.
As he stripped completely, he felt sudden tremors as he tried to hide his erection by covering it with his hands. The shame he felt, kneeling at her feet, stripped, of both clothes and dignity.
Ah, he loved it!
Guinevere stared down at him. She scowled at his hands covering himself.
"Raise your hands," her chilling cold voice made him tremble.
He hesitated. He then looked up at her pleadingly as if asking to be forgiven. His oppressor wasn't so warm though. Another slap greeted him that made him crouch inside.
"Did I tell you to raise your head?"
He didn't dare look up again. He slowly kneeled back and raised his hands up. It looked like a child getting punished, pray cutting out the hard on and butt naked part.
She stared at his dick, it was pulsating and throbbing.
"Fucking dog in heat," she said walking across the room to those shards.
She carefully sorted them, observing each piece and once a shard took her fancy, she smiled.
Taking it along with her, she paced softly back to her captor. She looked at his up raised hands, they trembled at her as if sensing her presence.
She went in front of him, she stared down. Jonah had now become a shivering mess, even feeling his own breaths on his body.
Guinevere crouched down in front of him. He dared not look at her. She softly touched his chest, those fading scars, sending him afloat in clouds.
"Ah... a..." he moaned.
"Your mark faded. No wonder you thought you could behave like that," Guinevere said as she slowly raised the shard of white ceramic. "Stupid dogs like you need to be constantly in pain to know who your owner is."
She held one of his hands that was raised up in the air. The shard in her hands glistened in front of Jonah's eyes. She put the shard in his hand.
"Jonah," she whispered in his ear. "Every time, my trace on your body starts to disappear, recreate it."
She put his hand with the ceramic shard right on the scars of his chest. She sat back as if to enjoy her view. Her left foot rose and touched his erection, he shivered.
"Ha..." His moan was louder.
And she removed it. Jonah recoiled forward, not wanting the touch to stop.
"Do it," her voice commanded.
He inclined the shard's sharp end towards his his chest, looking carefully where the previous scars were. He pierced through his skin and dragged the shard along the previous paths.
Guinevere again rubbed his dick with her foot.
He shivered and trembled, moaning. Whether from pain or from pleasure, neither of them knew.
As the shard continued, so did the foot. He had just reached the 'n' of her name, he spurted.
He crouched as he had gotten so weak at his hands that they couldn't even support his weight and he crashed down on the floor.
"Disgusting," Guinevere said. She raised her foot dripping with his cum and put it on his face. He looked at her, glazed and smitten, he licked her feet.
Snap!
As if that was the final string snapping, Guinevere grinned like a pervert, shoving her foot on his face.