Creative Writing Psycho

The following is a roleplay that I love, that I am writing with someone on another site. I will post both of our posts, so that the story makes sense. My character is Michael (the male) however...so you can keep a general idea of who is who. It is no where near completed. Enjoy.

Christina slowly came to, her head feeling heavy and groggy. Her green eyes opened slowly, only to see the darkness around her. Her throat felt dry and a headache pounded at her temples. She felt like she'd been drinking, but knew that wasn't the reason. She blinked a couple times, trying to focus on the room around her. From what she could tell, it looked to be some kind of dungeon.

She tried to pull her arms down, feeling how tired they were, only to find out that she was tied down. Or rather, being held down by some kind of machine. She tried to pull away, but her effort and the machine made it incredibly difficult. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Tears sprang to the brunette's eyes as she started to panic. What happened? she wondered to herself as she looked around again.

From the lone wooden chair in the corner her saw the whites of his new loves eyes. She had awoken, oh how glad he was. A grin danced upon his thin pale lips, as he spoke from the darkness, knowing she couldn't see him, knowing she couldn't scream, "Hello, my sweet. Did you have a pleasent sleep? You were so troublesome to get to sleep, you just wouldn't stop screaming, and struggling."

Michael did tend to babble sometimes, but that was alright with him, "I gave you some medicines to numb your throat, you won't be able to speak for a little bit more. I couldn't have you screaming while I was taking you here, now could I? Oh no. The cops would find you, then take my little doll away from me. We wouldn't want that, would we? That's okay it will wear off in about fifteen minutes. Screaming won't do any good I'm afraid, the walls are thick. I tried it once, to see how loud someone had to scream to be heard. To my best knowledge, I have yet to hear any screams from the outside."

A pale hand rose to his face as he slicked down his eyebrows, then ran his hair through his black spikey hair. His greenish-blue eyes danced wildly as he watched her hang in his newest experiment.

Christina's heart raced as she heard a man's voice. She tried again to scream, but nothing came out. She struggled against the machine, wishing she could demand to be let go. She pulled hard on the parts holding her wrists, feeling it cut into her pale flesh a bit. Her full bottom lip trembled in fear as a few tears spilled down her cheeks.

What did he want from her? She tried again to pull away from the machine, her eyes closing for a moment. She knew she couldn't give up so easily, but what was she supposed to do without a voice? And with no way to otherwise plead to be released, she was stuck. Both litterally and figurativly. (Sp?) She kept her green orbs shut, not wanting to see the darkness anymore.

Seeing her cry he worried. Quickly he stood up and rushed over to her, his pale hand reached for her face, and wiping away the tears, "Do not cry. Crying is bad. You can't be bad, you're here to love me. You should be happy. Happy to love Michael."

She was fully clothed, so she had nothing to cry about. He did nothing wrong to hurt her, "You will regain your voice in a few minutes, do not worry my doll. Do not worry at all. I'm going to feed you, and clothe you, and make you my doll, and all you need to do is love me. Love me forever, okay? Love me forever, for I love you."

His hand stroked her cheek, and gently tucked a piece of her fallen hair behind her ear, and a grin appeared on his face. She was so pretty, so pretty.


Christina pulled away from the man's touch, though her head didn't go far. More tears spilled down her cheeks as she wished for her voice to come back. She kept her eyes closed for a few more minutes, not wanting to see the man who'd taken her hostage. At the mention of him taking care of her and her loving him, her green eyes opened again.

She stared at him for a moment in disbelief. Was he that desperate? She turned her head away from his hand, wishing she could tell him to go to hell. She looked at him again, however, glaring with anger. She tried to free her arms again, wishing she could slap the man, but soon gave up. What use was it to try and move?

I'll never love you, she thought to herself. As tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her gaze locked with his. Let me go, she thought to herself, praying that he would do so.

Seeing her pull away from his loving touch his eyes narrowed, "Don't turn from me, my doll. You will love me. You can love me if you turn away. Look at me."

When she didn't look, he grasped her chin almost painfully and forced her to stare straight at her. Staring into her green eyes he smiled, "See. Not that hard. Just look at me when I speak to you. Love me when I love you. Everything will be all right."

Slowly he let go of her face, and walked behind the machine. He unclasped her hands, and then her feet, then her stomach, offering her freedom, though before she could walk away, he grabbed a leash that was attached to a collar wrapped around her neck. The collar could only be removed with a key, the key was on his person. Grinning at the metal chain in his hand he walked in front of her, "Would you like to see your new home, my doll?"


Christina shuddered at his touch, staring at him before he disappeared behind her. Feeling her wrists and legs being released, a small smile came to her face. When her stomach was free, she tried to pull away from him. Only then did she noticed the collar around her neck. She brought her hand to it, looking back at the chain in the man's hand.

She glared at the man for a moment before shaking her head to his question. Of course she didn't want to be shown around. She wanted to be let go. She tried to tug at the collar, tears coming to her eyes again. Why had he chosen her for this? What was so special that he needed to have her? Her eyes looked away from him and to the floor as she crossed her arm over her chest.

Smiling at her, when she shook her head no for the tour he began to walk forward, tugging gently on the leash, "Good, I'm glad. Your new home is about two-hundred years old, this basement is my newest project. It's sound prove, and it's easy to clean. Blood washes right off the walls, my doll. I shall show you that later. Later, it will be so clean and pretty."

Passing by a series of torture devices he grinned proudly at them, "These are my babies, my sweet. They are things I have invented throughout the years. Torture they are used for, stuff that people would rather kill themselves then go through. I love them, so much fun. So so much fun."

"And over here...", he continued as he pulled her to another corner, "Are my other devices. These are not meant for torture, but pleasure. You will be pleasured many a time on these, so do not fret, my dear. Your time will come, it will come."

Grinning he walked towards a sepreate section, behind a wall. In that room was a living room, and a bedroom, "This here will be your new home. You sleep on the bed, with me. On the couch you can watch television, though be careful what you watch, you don't want to destroy your mind. The news is forbiddened, it's bad. Bad bad bad. The news tells only the bad side of the story, never the good.", clearing his throat his turned towards his pet, "So do you like it? Do you like your new home?"

 

Christina tried to stay back, but the feel of the collar around her neck being pulled made her walk forward. She kept her arms folded around her chest, only glancing up once in a while. Tears spilled from her green eyes at the sight of all the devices, and she tried to keep her gaze on the floor. As they walked, she felt a slight tickle in her throat. Could her voice be returning that quickly?

Her eyes rose once more to look over the pleasure machines, a light scoff coming from her mouth. She looked to the floor again, watching the man's feet as he led her into another room. Once there, she didn't raise her eyes to look around. What was the use?

When they stopped walking, she made no effort to answer his question, vocally or otherwise. Did it matter if she liked this place? Christina sat down on the floor with her back to the wall, the chain just long enough for her to sit comfortably. She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, glancing once to the man who'd brought her in here.

"W-," she started to speak, but found it a bit difficult. After taking in a deep breath, trying to get her vocal chords back to normal, she tried again. "Why?" she asked, her voice raspy. More tears spilled down her cheeks as the hold on her legs tightened a bit.

Seeing her slide to the ground he paced back and forth, his hand still holding tightly to the leash, "I'm not sure, I was thinking the same thing. Red couchs never did go well with dungeon like rooms. Perhaps we should paint, would you like to paint? What color? Red? Black? Flamiango?"

Turning he glanced down at her with his green eyes, and smiled, "You'll love it here, I picked you out special. You're perfect, completely perfect. I'll make you more perfect. You want to see my workshop? I do all my work in there, and that's where I decided who I wanted. It took me lots of years...many many years to decide each aspect of perfection. You're perfect. Well, one of your ears is slightly higher than the other. I can fix that though, with operations. If you want me too, then you'd be completely perfection. That's okay though, I can live with one ear being slightly higher. It's only a millimeter."

He grabbed her leash, trying to coax her to going to a dork across from them, besides the bed.


Christina rested her forehead on her knee as the man rambled on about the room. When he spoke of how 'perfect' she was, a shudder ran through her body. Though she disagreed, she made no effort to correct him. Let him think what he wants, she thought to herself. At the mention of her ear, however, she raised a hand to it. Of course she would never agree to an operation performed by him.

Feeling him tugging on the leash, she looked up for a moment. Her hand raised to the chain, tugging it as well. She had no want to go anywhere with this man, especially connected to the leash. "Leave me be," she said softly, her arms wrapping back around her legs.

Hearing her protests he turned towards her, worry in his eyes, "Is my doll tired? Would you like to sleep? Sleep...sleep comes later. Now I show you, I show you the room. Hurry, or you'll miss it.", then he pulled the leash again, slightly harder, "No, wait...you must be hungry. You all want food, 'tis a shame. 'Tis, 'tis a shame. I will make you a drink. Would you like a drink?"

Turning away from her, he walked up to the wall. Along the wall about every five inches or so, up, down, left and right were little notches. Each notch was put there to hold the leash, firmly, and securly. Only he could remove it with the help of a key, that was around his own neck on a unbreakable chain. Placing the leash end on the hook, he closed the lock and heard it automatically lock, "I will get you a drink, a nice, yummy drink."

He walked away, and was gone for almost fifteen minutes, walking upstairs to his normal house, with a kitchen. In the kitchen he put together a milkshake like drink; however, this one had a special ingredient, this ingredient would make it so that his doll would want to do what he asked of her, at least on the outside. Michael had always assumed that on the inside they wanted it too, but he never proved it, his dolls always died before he could ask. Not this one though. This one was perfect, well...minus that ear.

Finishing the drink he walked back downstairs.


When he left, Christina moved closer to the wall her leash was connected to. She tried to pull the chain leash down, failing with each pull. Giving up, she sighed heavily and laid down. She curled into a ball, tears spilling out of her eyes.

"Why me?" she asked aloud. She bit her bottom lip, wishing she was home. How did she even get here? Where did that man find her? And how far away was home, anyways? She shuddered at the thought of never returning home. Her green eyes closed tightly as she tried to push the thoughts from her mind.

Michael walked back down the steps, her drink in hand. When he returned to the room he saw her sitting where she was earlier, and a smile appeared on his face, "My doll, are you thirsty? I brought you a drink. Drink up, drink up. It'll quench your thrist, my doll."

He placed the drink beside her, and held his drink in the other hand. They were both the same drink, but he wasn't planning on drinking his. If necessary, since sometimes his new pets would throw fits and ruin one drink, he would force them to drink the second. Sitting down in a couch chair he smiled over at her holding up the class as if to toast, "To our future together, my doll. Forever more."

Seeing that she wasn't looking he placed the class down on the end table beside him, waiting for her to drink what was provided for her.


Christina scowled at the offer of a drink, and it only deepened when he spoke of their lives together. Over my dead body, she thought to herself. She stared at the drink that was set beside her for a moment before looking away. "I don't like milkshakes," she said matter-of-factly.

There was no way he could make her drink something, was there? Though she highly doubted it, she wouldn't put it past the man to have some kind of tubes for that very purpose. She wrapped her arms around her stomach as she stared at one of the walls.

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When she didn't drink it he frowned. Standing up he unlocked the lock, and pulled her tightly on the leash until she had to move. He brought her to the other room, and forced her into a chair, that had a belt for each limp. Locking those tightly he walked over to a drawer, and angerily pulled out a plastic tube used in hospitls for feeding, and a cone. He came over to her, after grabbing the drink and held it up, "You have...five seconds to drink this, or I will force it down your throat, do you hear me?"

He held the drink up, and the tubes up, "I am not afraid to shove a tube down your throat, and force both drinks down, that wouldn't be pleasent, now would it?", his voice got calmer, "Now drink the milkshake I made you, my love."

When Christina was pulled towards the chair, she tried to fight him off. She tried to stay in place, to not move, but the way he pulled her leash made it so she had to. Either move or get strangled, that is. Forced into the chair, and once again tied down, she felt the fear coming to her again. Would this ever end?

She watched the man move, seeing the tubes and cone in his hands. Her eyes widened with shock as she listened to him. The tone of his voice made her shudder as she looked away from him. When his voice calmed, she glanced back up to him. The tubes increased the fear inside of her again.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded slightly. Had her hand not been buckled down, she would've taken the drink from him. "I'll drink it," she said gently, her eyes falling to the floor again.

Smiling when she said that she would drink it, he undid one arm and handed her the drink. Once she held the drink in her hand he placed his hands on his hips, not leaving until she was done with it. He smiled at her, "See now is it so bad to just listen? Listening causes no pain, pain is bad right?"


Christina took the drink from the man, glaring at him as she drank it. She drank it quickly, then tossed the glass onto the floor, the sound of it shattering causing a small smile to come to her face. "You seem to enjoy it," she said.

His grin widened on his face, "I do enjoy pain. Pain is fun, oh so so much fun. You however, do not like pain, evidently."

His eyes turned to the glass, and then looked back at her, "You'll be cleaning that up later.", he stated bluntly. Michael turned away from her for a moment, pacing a few steps, then turned back unlocking her and grabbing the leash, "Why don't we go watch some television, huh?"

It took a few minutes for the ingredient to work, soon she would feel tingly, and perhaps nasous, then after that, he would make a few suggestions, and once she started obeying them without threats, he knew it would work.

 

Christina simply shrugged her shoulder when he told her she'd be cleaning. When he took hold of the leash and unlocked her, her hand raised to the chain as well. However, shortly after touching the cold metal, she could feel a tingling sensation running through her body.

Her hand dropped from the leash and went to her stomach as she started to feel nauseous. "What did you give me?" she asked as she closed her eyes, trying to fend of the sick feeling she had. She leaned over a bit, taking a few deep breaths.

Grinning he saw that it was working, "I gave you a drink my doll. Only a drink. Welll, a drink mixed with a few chemicals and what not."

Seeing her grab her stomach and take in a few breaths he chuckled softly, "Don't worry, it won't kill you, I love you too much to let you die just yet. You have to show me how much you love me, and now you will."

Michael waited for her, the feeling would pass momentarialy, and then she would be completely under his control. She wouldn't try to run unless he told her too, and even if she didn't want to mentally, her body would do so. For some reason the orignal potion had to be ingested, but after that a shot was administered every day, to keep the effects the same. After twenty-four hours with out the medication she would be back to normal, and he wasn't sure what she would remember. None of his previous dolls lasted that long.


Christina noticed that the feelings were passing almost as quickly as they came. She took in another breath as she looked up to the man. She could feel her body responding to him, even though she didn't want to. She stood up, feeling like someone else was controlling her.

"Chemicals?" she questioned, her tone much happier sounding than what she wanted it to. What did he do to her? She stepped closer to him, though she wanted to pull away from him.

His grin widenened, "Don't worry your pretty face about it. However, you made a mess.", his hand pointed towards the broken glass, "I want you to clean it up. The dust pan is in the closet over to your right, please clean it up."

He knew at first she might fight, some of them could, not many, but some. Usually if his voice rose then they would do it. As she walked towards him, he placed his hand on her cheek, gently stroking down her soft skin, "You are so pretty, my doll. So very very pretty. Are I not handsome as well?"

Christina wanted to fight, especially when he touched her cheek. She wanted to push him away, to get his filthy hand off her skin. But her body didn't seem to want to let her. She couldn't even clench her fists at her side. Instead, she nuzzled her face into his hand, as if she really wanted to be beside him.

A nod came from her at his question, though she thought the complete opposite. Her mouth wouldn't form the words she wanted to express to him, and it was starting to worry her. Would she never have control over herself again?

Instead, she headed over to the closet to gather the dustpan. She took hold of it and walked back over to the broken glass. She bent down to pick it up, carefully sliding the pieces onto the plastic item.

Smiling as she nuzzled against his hand he watched her go and do as he had asked. When she bent over he stared helplessly at her nice ass as she cleaned up the broken glass. Leaning himself against the wall he smiled, "Good girl, my doll. Good girl."

Glancing over at her, he grinned and walked behind her, trailing his fingers up her ass and to her neck, "You're so nice for picking that up, what would you like to do now? Eat some dinner? Do my laundry? Sitting on the couch and relax? It's up to you my doll, though sitting and relaxing doesn't that just sound dandy?"

For now he would make sure she would do what he wanted...she could still fight, if she had enough will power. He didn't want to trust her free in the top level of the house unless he knew he had ulitmate control. Perhaps...later, he could use her for some sexual urges. After all, lovers made love.

Christina felt a chill run though her body as he touched her. Though she wanted it to be out of disgust, she could feel her body reacting the complete opposite than her mind. What kind of chemicals had he given her? Without voicing the question, she stood and listened to him.

Turning to face him, a smile came to her face. "Sitting and relaxing," she replied, her voice happy though the words were intended to be angry. She tried her hardest to move away from him, to try and escape this place, but her legs wouldn't move.

She could feel herself growing even more worried than she had been before. Even when she was tied up she wasn't this scared. Her eyes reflected that fear, though every other part of her body seemed perfectly fine with being held captive.

He smiled, as he grabbed her hand in his and walked towards the couch sitting down. When they both sat, he took his hand onto her face, and moved it so he looked in her eyes. Fear danced across them, and his smile grew, "Are you afraid of me, my doll? Fear is so delicious. It taste so good. Would you like to taste fear? I can show you what fear tastes like."

His fingers gently carassed her cheek, "You look so beautiful when you're afraid. Like a fragile, pale doll. Just like those ones.", he said pointing over at the shelves of porcelin dolls, and grinned, "Aren't they cute? See, that's what I want my children to look like. Would you like to have children, my doll? How many children do you want, my doll?"

He wondered what her name was. Tilting his head softly, he brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes, "My sweet, what is your real name? It would make me happy to know."

She wanted so badly to pull away from him, to fight his touches. Every bone in her body ached for her to move, but she couldn't. She remained seated beside him, looking towards the dolls when he mentioned them. Her green eyes then looked back to him, listening to what he said.

"I don't want children," she replied. She intended once again for the words to be harsher, but they came out only with a slight edge of annoyance. Well, that's something, she thought to herself. She was surprised when he asked her name. Atleast it showed her that he wasn't stalking her before taking her captive. A slight comfort, if anything.

"Christina Davies," she said. She had had no intention of saying her real name, especially her last, but it came out before she could stop herself. Now, if she escaped, he'd be able to find her easily.

A smiled danced across his full lips as he faced away from her placing his arms behind his neck and leaning back, "Christina. Christina. I shall call you Christi. It's such a lovely name." His green eyes glanced around the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular but seeing everything, "Do you know why you're here? Of course not. I will tell you. I will tell you where I found you, see if it jogs your memory. I saw you, at a resturant last week. I was eating, in the corner watching you from afar, and when I saw you, I almost at once knew you were perfect."

Clearing his throat, his eyes closed, the memories replaying in his mind, "I had to get to know you better, but you just wouldn't look at me. Wouldn't acknowledge my presence. I sent you flowers. Did you get them?", he paused for a moment, but not long enough for her to answer, "I know you got them, I saw you pick them up...they were from me. Weren't they gorgous? Roses. Black roses, with thorns intertwined. A beautiful combonation might I add."

Turning his head he faced her, his grin widening as he thrived off her fear in her eyes, "I watched you all week. I couldn't get you out of my mind. I watched you every waking moment, I can go a long time without sleeping. Eighty-two hours and sixteen minutes to be exact. That's when I collaspe of exhaustion. I slept then, and then three hours and forty-nine minutes later I woke up, and watched you again. You never saw me, but I saw you. The one thing I never got, was your name. Your beautiful name, but now I know it. Would you like to know my name? I bet you would."

His voice sounded crazily happy, as he spoke. He rushed through what he said, barly stopping for air, barely giving her chance to answer the questions. Michael didn't mind though, he usually asked questions all the time, not expecting anyone to answer. He asked himself questions, but now...now Christi would answer him. Quickly he pushed himself so that he sat criss-cross next to her, and faced her bug-eyed, and wide-smiled, "Would you like to know my name?", he repeated again.

Christina could feel the fear inside of her rise. Of course he'd stalked her; how else would he have gotten her? She wanted to pull away from him, run out of the room. How could he sit here calmly and tell her all of this? She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, the only control of her body she had. If only she could do more.

At the mention of the roses, she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She had gotten them and had picked them up. But, being that she didn't know who sent them, she'd thrown them away. She felt her heart racing in her chest, fear coarsing through her body at an even stronger rate now.

When he asked the question, then repeated it, she could do nothing but stare at him. She dug her fingernails into her palm, wishing that she could raise her hand and punch him. But, of course, she couldn't. Though he was waiting for an answer, she did her best to remain quiet. Her eyes were locked on his, as she was unable to look away from him.

 

When Christina didn't answer he tilted his head and frowned, "Aw, Christi lost her voice? That's okay. I will tell you anyways. You see, that's how nice I am.", he then smiled at her, and hummed softly, "You see. My name is Michael. Michael Teufel."

Pushing up off the couch he grinned widly, as he stepped up on the coffee table, weak under his weight, though he had a small thin frame. He walked back and forth, turning on his heel when ever he neared the edge of the table. Turning towards her, he sepertated his feet shoulder with and kneeled, placing his hands on his knees and glancing at his beautiful victim, "Do you know what Teufel means?", he shook his head as he asked knowing she didn't, "Of course not. It's German. It means 'devil' in German. Doesn't that fit me so well? I don't think it does...but some other of my dolls have said it does."

Spinning on the table, he stopped and stretched slightly, cracking his back as he leaned all the way back, "Haha. Michael Devil. Would you like to be Christi Teufel? Of course, you love me, don't you? I will ask you to marry me one day. Not today...Missy, I don't know you that well. Shame on you for thinking like that!", he grinned.

Chrsitina watched him, her eyes following him as he paced back and forth. She kept the name in her mind, turning it over a few times before he crouched down. When he explained the meaning of his name, it took all over her strength to nod ever-so-slightly to his question. Of course he was a devil.

With the mention of marrying him, a scowl came to her face. She was a bit surprised that the actions were coming slightly easier than before with the help of the anger that was flowing through her veins. The fear began to disappear from her eyes, replaced with a hatred towards this man.

Still, she remained silent. She still had no control over the majority of her body, and it took all her concentration to simply move a finger. But she was getting there, fighting against the chemicals he'd given her. If only she could speak what she felt.

Of course, Michael was in his own little world, and didn't even notice the scowl that appeared on her face, or the difference of fear to anger in her eyes. He shook playfully, and let out a soft, crazy like scream, "I'm so excited! We will have so much fun! Want to see the wedding plans? Oh you'll love them, my doll! Absolutly love them!"

He jumped off the table in front of her, grinning, as he quickly wrapped his fingers painfully against her jaw and chin, pulling her towards him, and closing his eyes forcing a hard, passionate kiss. The kiss was sloppy, and when he pulled away he grinned, pushing her back into the couch, leaving his wet, warm salvia on her lips, and chin, "That was great....though, you need more passion! You need...more oomph!"

Michale walked over to a closet, and searched around for a bit. The sound of falling objects was heard, as he singing out lou a song he made up, "Daddy...daddy, don't hurt her, she's my lover. She's my pet. She's my ticket out of here. Daddy...daddy...hand the butcher knife, little girl wants to leave. She's my lover. I love her so. I can't let her go. Chop off her leg, she can't run. The blood Daddy. The blood, is everywhere. Hand the garabage bag...little girl is dead. Alll gone. Daddy love me. Love me so. Ah HA!", he said happily finally as he pulled out of the closet, humming the melody to himself.

Walking back over to the couch he jumped over the edge, and sat down next to her, grinning widely, "I have made our wedding planner. Me! You should be so happy...most woman just hate having to plan weddings! I picked out your dress...want to see it?", Michael didn't wait for her to respond as he opened up the book and turned to a picture of an all white leather wedding dress, that had belts across the chest, and was very revealing, and very slavish. A collar went from the girls neck, and was held in his own hand in the picture. He was in an all white leather tuxedo, with a red tie, and a grin, "I already own that tuxedo. I was married once. My wife was such a good wife. Then she tried to leave me. I miss her so.", he said solemnly, a moment of sadness.

Then he turned the page, "This is the flower set. The china set. The chairs. The bridesmaid's outfit. The best-man's outfit. My friend Taylor will be the best-man. Oh how he loves me! He is amazing. He will bring his pet as well. She is pretty....but not as pretty as you. Do not tell him I said that.", he placed one finger in the 'shh' position over his lips and grinned at her, "What do you think, my doll?"


As he took hold of her jaw, it took all her strength to barely pull away from him. When she was pushed back down to the couch, she tried to make sense of what all he was saying. Christina remained silent as he messed around in the closet, the thought of marrying him making her stomach churn.

She scowled a bit more as he sat beside her, flipping the book open. She wanted to look away, or to pull the pictures out and rip them up. How could he even think of her marrying him? She dug her nails into her palms a bit more, silently wishing that she could control her body again.

The anger grew in her eyes as she looked over the pictures. How dare he think it will happen! She'd never allow him to marry her, even if he somehow found a way to convince her of it. At the mention of his friend having a 'pet,' her eyes widened every-so-slightly in surprise. How many guys were there like him?

At his question, Christina finally unclenched her jaw. "It's horrible," she said, her voice barely audible. She could feel a bit of relief at the thought of being able to speak what she really thought. Could the drugs be letting up this soon, or was her anger and defiance growing?

"That's gre-", he stopped, and glanced at her. He wasn't expecting her to be able to fight the drugs so soon. He wasn't expecting that anwser. He frowned as he placed the book on the table and looked at her, "What did you say?"

His green eyes searched hers, he saw the anger raging, and he realized just how mad she real was. Oh...so she needed another dose. That could be arranged. Michael maintained his scowl, "I think it's time for another drink. You must not have drank it all the last time. That's okay. I will make sure you get it all...every...last...ounce."

Standing up he grabbed her leash and pulled her towards the chair she was in earlier. Pushing her into the chair he tied her down, attaching each limp to a leg, or an arm rest. Walking upstairs he hurried, furious that it wasn't working. Perhaps she needed an injection. An injection would be fun. He could make her happy. Happy was good. He grabbed the blender, with the rest of the drink, and then walked to the fridge pulling out a small vile.

Taking the steps two at a time he arrived back downstairs, placing the blender filled with the drink on the table, and reaching into a drawer, "I'm going to give you a shot...if you do not drink all of this. However to make sure you don't try any funny business, I will force this whole thing down your throat."

Michael found what he was looking for, the tube and funnel that he had from earlier. He quietly walked back over to her, "Open your mouth, my doll.", he said with a frown, and anger in his eyes.

Christina tried to find the energy to fight him off, to make sure she didn't get tied down again. But the drugs, and how hard she had been fighting against them, had exhausted her. The anger was even stronger in her eyes, but she couldn't do anything to stop him.

When he disappeared upstairs, she closed her eyes, taking in a shaky breath. She had to think of a plan, and fast. She could only guess that the drugs would be stronger this time, and she'd lose the ability to blink if she wanted to.

She heard him coming back down the stairs and she opened her eyes again, watching him. She could feel the fear returning to her, causing the anger to decrease slightly. Her eyes widened a bit in fear; she hated needles. She clenched her jaw for a moment, feeling her heart racing in her chest.

"Please don't," she whispered, the anger gone from her eyes. The fear was back, full-force, and she knew that she would do anything to keep the drugs from her system. Being his 'pet' was bad enough, but not being able to even bend her finger was worse.

 

The look in her eyes, though still fearful, turned to begging. "Please," she said beneath her breath, hoping he'd take a bit of pity on her.
He shook his head, "Please don't? Please don't what, my doll? Please don't shove this tube down your throat and force you into my permant slavery? Please don't jab you with a needle with an unknown substance? Please don't marry me? Please don't what?!", his voice was growing louder and more intense with each 'please don't', and when he said the final one he practically screamed, a few specs of spit landing on her face, his cheat rising and falling angerily.

Michael violently threw the tube and funnel down, getting closer, grabbing her chin again in his hands, but this time with even more strength and pain, there would be bruises later. He didn't kiss her, but he breathied heavily on her lips, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he glared into hers with anger flashing across, "If I don't do this, how can I trust you? How can I trust that you won't leave me? Hmm? Oh, but you can trust me...you can trust me with the fact that if you so help me god try to escape while you are not drugged, or are drugged, I will tie you down to that table over there.", he pointed towards a table while forcefully pointing her head towards it. It was a flat table, with a few spikes on it, and toys and tools beside it. Making sure she saw it, he got closer, whispering in her ear, "And make sure...you can never walk...again. Then you can't leave me. Oh no...you can't leave me with out those little tendons in your legs...I will cut them...cut them clean through...and you'll never walk again...not without my help....and when I help I will make sure they are in barbie doll position. So you can only wear heels...for the rest of your life. You will not leave me, do I make myself clear?!"

Christina shook slightly in fear as he screamed at her. She opened her mouth to speak, but his hand was soon on her jaw again. Tears spilled down her cheeks as he spoke, forcing her eyes to look over at the table. She shook again, feeling her fear rise even more. Her heart was pouding wildly in her chest and she wished for him to let go of her jaw.

When he spoke of cutting her tendons, she whimpered a bit. She tried to pull away, wanted to remove herself from his touch, but the binds and the drugs in her system wouldn't let her. She whimpered again, closing her eyes tightly. Her jaw was starting to ache now and she worried that he might actually break the bone.

She tried to speak, but without success. It was hard enough to force herself to talk without him holding her jaw, but now she found it utterly impossible. She could feel the tears falling down her cheeks quicker now as she silently prayed for him to let go of her and to let her speak.

He saw her tremble, and gently realeased his grip, kissing her on the side of the lips and cheek he pulled away, "Now...I'm going to let you go, but I do not trust you just yet...so I will ask you polietly to drink a little bit more of this drink.", before she could say anything he placed his finger on her lips, and shushed her, "Just a few more sips, maybe a glass. If you do that, I will let you roam around the living room...without any restraints...except..."

Michael's voice trailed off, as he left his finger on her lips, "The shocking device that I implanted on your collar. It will shock you if you try to scream, or if I randomly decide to push a button. I placed the buttons randomly around the room, so I can reach one whenever I need."

His other hand traced her cheek gently, pushing some hair out of her eyes that his force earlier created to fall out, "Now, are you going to be a good girl, and listen?"

Christina's eyes opened slowly as he pulled away, the fear still showing in them. She wanted to protest drinking the milkshake, but feeling his fingers against her lips stopped her. Her jaw ached where his fingers had been and she knew she was already bruised.

She could feel her stomach churning at the thought of drinking more of the drugs. She didn't want to, but she knew she had no other choice. And the idea of being freed again, and able to walk around on her own, sounded nice.

As he explained the shocking device in her collar, she swallowed hard, fear pulsing through her body again. She knew that she wouldn't yell, even if the device wasn't in her collar. What was the point? No one would hear her.

Christina whimpered again when he hand traced over her cheek, her eyes watching him. She took in a breath, nodding slightly to his question. Better to just go along with it, she thought to herself as she glanced at the funnel and the tube, trying to forget the threat of the shot.

Grinning at her nod, he slowly turned on his heel and walked over to the counter grabbing a glass off of the shelf, and pouring some of the drugs into a clear cup. The redish liquid filled it to the top, and he placed the blender down before walking slowly back over to Christina, "Christi, sweetie. Are you excited? Are you happy to spend the rest of your life with me? I am, I am so ever much."

Squatting in front of her, he held the glass to her lips, coaxing her to drink it, but continuing on his spaced out mood, "Tomorrow I will show you the pictures again, and again, and again, and soon you won't be able to wait for the wedding. Don't worry...we'll have some time before we get married. I have to make sure you're not like the others. The other's all tried to run. They didn't get far, but they tried. That made me sad, Christi. So sad."

He pushed the drink against her lips again, attempting to open them gently. Michael's grin was almost ear to ear, his green eyes were dancing wildly, and his hair was a mess from his earlier fit, "I have the dress in my room. I will let you try it on one day. It should fit...the last girl was a little heavier than you, but that's okay. She was a trial...you are the perfect one. Beautiful. Perfection. Now...drink up, my doll."


Christina wanted to keep her lips closed, to throw the cup at him. But she feared what would happen if she even tried either. So, she parted her lips and closed her eyes, afraid of what was to come. Not only would the taste be horrible, but the effects would be worse. She wanted so desperately to not have to take the drugs, to just prove to him that she could obey him without them.

She tried to block out what he was saying even though she knew that she was no say in the matter. She knew he'd find some way to make her obey his every wish, even if she denied everything and fought the entire way. And to think of being strapped to that table while he cut into her tendons... It was unbearable.

She took a small amount of the liquid into her mouth, wincing a bit as she swallowed it. Please, she thought to herself, Don't make me drink the rest. Call this good. She shuddered slightly as it burnt her throat and she could almost feel the effects already.

Michael smiled as she swallowed, and pushed it up to fill her mouth a little more, "Two more sips, and then you will be done...", he said softly, glad that she was no longer fighting. When he saw her whince he pushed his hand though her beautiful hair as he grinned. When she was finished he took away the drink, and smiled, loving her obedience, "Good girl.", he whispered softly.

Standing up he took the glass and sipped it, almost have tempting to drink some, but instead poured it back into the blender, just in case. He hummed the tune to his earlier song and walked over to a small fridge, placing the leftovers in it. Then turning to look at her, "So I'm going to let you go now...and we're going to go in the livingroom. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret later", he reminded her.

Untying her he began to walk towards the livingroom hoping she would follow. He knew she would, and only once had he been attacked in the process of this step, but he had faith in her. Plus...he figured she was way to afraid to do anything.

She whimpered softly, but finished the two sips. She leaned her head back against the chair, waiting for the pain to course through her stomach again. She knew that it was going to be worse than before, since the drugs hadn't been mixed with anything this time.

Her eyes silently watched him move across the room, tears coming to her eyes again. Would her life be like this now? Would she be afraid of the man constantly, sure that some kind of torture would be right around the corner? Christina's eyes closed tight as she thought about it.

When he untied her, she stood and started to follow. About half way to the living room, she felt the drugs enter her system. Feeling that same pain in her stomach, she buckled over and fell to the floor, clutching her stomach. She had been right; it was much worse this time. She tried to remember how to breath, hoping that it would pass quickly.


Hearing a noise he turned, an eyebrow raising and saw her on the floor. This was normal, expsially after drinking full dosages of the meds, not mixed with anything. He smiled, and looked at her, offering his hand to her, "Are you alright, Christi? You should really watch where you're stepping, you might hurt yourself."

Michael waited for her to stand up, "Let's go Christi, into the livingroom. We'll have some fun. Play scrabble. Watch television, make - out. Who knows...it's up to you, it's up to me. It's up to everyone."

He grinned zoning out again, but his hand maintaining it's level for her to help herself.