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Chapter 17 - I Don't Want To Be Your Slave

That was how all of his punishments went, an implement and then coming from that same implement. Each time made her feel more and more afraid.

Until the last punishment. The night before that last one she was nearing panic, unsure why. Jezebel needed to leave his influence and hated the thought of leaving his influence.

Each time made her more and more tempted to his training and offer, and that made her terrified, made her whimper. She needed to be out of control again, needed to forget all of that and all the conflict, goddamnit.

He soothed some internal problems only to cause a lot more, and she wondered how she could have been so stupid as to vaguely think he could fix her.

That wasn't how this shit worked. Life wasn't a fucking fairy tale and a lot of people kind of sucked. She felt like she needed to remember that, so she did something really stupid the night before his last punishment.

She went and found the shadiest BDSM club she could find and found a guy there, one who had teardrops tattooed under his eyes in spidery prison style ink, and grabbed him.

He instantly came across as more of an asshole than any kind of dominant, which was perfect. He had no self control, so he wouldn't be taking her over, or in, anytime soon.

Just to be safe, she offered him painkillers and it was even more perfect when he took her up on them.

And her punishment top couldn't be very upset, because she didn't take any drugs herself. When she took the guy home and he grabbed her by her throat, she felt sickened and it was good.

Her dom compass wasn't going on enough to make her wet, so she shoved him to make him be meaner, and he was, and it wasn't controlled.

It was head clearing, perfect. She remembered horrible pain in ways that made her throw up after he left, remembered an almost drug-like haze to that kind of pain, and that was it.

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Her phone went off the next day, but instead of the alarm that was to warn her to go to him for punishment, it was him calling.

For a brief moment, she was concerned that she had overslept, but no. It was just his name lighting up her screen. She blinked at her phone and then answered, groaning when she felt so freaking sore.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter."

Asher didn't miss a beat. "Hello, Clarice." And there was a charming smile in his voice.

Wow, she liked that, actually. So far, most of what she had seen from him had been his hard punishment version, but she remembered his enjoying her references that first night.

There was some lightness underneath the seriousness, and she had just forgotten about it. She didn't know why, but that fascinated her.

He was starting to fascinate her, like another puzzle cube. She wondered what else was under all that cold personality.

"Are you going to at least hypnotize me to not be afraid of the crossbow? So you can kill me with it when you get bored?"

He laughed delightedly. "Oh, it is fun to meet someone who knows the book and not the movie. You're in a good mood today, Pet."

Jezebel was, actually. She felt a lot better after her little self punishment foray to clear her head. She felt filthy as fuck, like she couldn't take a long enough shower, but better.

"You're in a good mood, too. You're not making me try to define difficult words."

"Oh, we'll get there. You have one last punishment to endure before the card is yours, but that's part of why I called. You haven't taken me up on my offer to go out with you. Would you like to meet me for coffee? Just once?"

Well, okay. She did like coffee and she felt clearer in her head, so it could be nice. "I... would actually like that, yes. So... um, what happens after today?"

"You get to play under my supervision for a time, until I can be certain you won't pull another stunt like you did." His voice was even, steady.

And fair. "Yes, sir."

"You've done so well. And I haven't made this very fun or easy for you, which was on purpose. But now that you're at the end, I would like to show you a little bit of fun that comes from when you behave. An offer, if you will."

"I don't want to be your slave." Jezebel said it, sitting up abruptly.

Asher chuckled. "Oh, I noticed. You nearly hurt yourself, Pet. This is just for fun."

"Yes, sir. I... would like that." She grinned because it did sound nice. The fun version of him. She would like to see that.

"Good girl. I'll message you where to meet me. We might have to make your punishment a little later, but I feel good about having gotten through to you. We'll relax a stricture or two. Don't make me regret it, though."

That last was stern as always.

She liked that, too, when she wasn't thinking too hard about it. "Yes, sir." The honorific had become so very easy to say after his punishments.

She went to get ready, only to realize she had a very big problem when she saw herself in the mirror. "Oh. Not. Good."

It was bad. It was so bad. She hadn't done drugs, but she had tortured her body in a different way. And the drugs might have been kinder to her than what her playtime "friend" had done.

She almost didn't go to the coffee date, almost ran, but when she was crying miserably in the shower from what she had done, there was only one thought that comforted her.

He could help her feel better. She didn't know how, but he could.

Even so, she was terrified of him seeing her, afraid of the anger and disappointment he might have in her.

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*Author's note*

*Found sprawled on keyboard, face imprinted with QWERTY marks*

So... my cat just read the latest chapter and had the audacity to walk away without leaving a review. Et tu, Mr. Whiskers?

Don't be like Mr. Whiskers, dear readers. Show some love to your sleep-deprived author. I accept comments, votes, and virtual hugs.

*Peels sticky note from forehead that says "write faster"*

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