Blood Pet

Chapter Three

WARNING: There is some more language in this chapter.  I am still on the fence about the rating, so PLEASE let me know if you think this story is fine at a PG13 rating or if it should be moved up to R. Thanks.

Song Choice: Strip Me by Natasha Bedingfield

Once I was sure that the asshole was completely upstairs; the only sign of that was the creaking of the floor boards above me as he walked away from the basement door, I immediately began thinking all these nasty thoughts about him.

First of all, this guy had some serious issues. Right after I thought it, I changed my mind; no, he didn't just have issues, he was fucking psychotic. I mean, what the hell kind of sick fuck did these kinds of things? No normal person kidnapped people, marked them and threatened them with medieval torture devices.

Second of all, he had this crazy idea that he was better than everyone else and wandered around acting like he was the best thing since sliced bread or some shit like that. As if he was some God and deserved to be bowed down to and worshiped for his "greatness". The thought was laughable at best.

Third of all, he had this delusional idea that he was going to get me to bend to his will at some point. I was not one for following orders; especially ones that came from a big-headed moron such as him. And, if he thought that he could get me to be his docile little slave like Cindy appeared to be... well, he had another think coming since I had no intention of ever giving in to the bastard; I would rather die than give in to him. He would learn that eventually; at least I hoped he was smart enough to do so.

I continued to sit there stewing in my own hatred of the bastard for God only knows how long. It was dark since he hadn't been nice enough to remove the stupid hood before he left and when one is left in complete darkness, it's hard to tell the amount of time that actually passes.

My shoulder still throbbed with a small amount of pain from that stupid tattoo the bastard had had one of his little minions apply on me; the pain was in sync with the throbbing of my broken index finger.

I was so lost in my thoughts and muttering to myself about how much I hated the bastard that I didn't hear the basement door open or the light switch turn back on. I didn't even know he was down here with me until I felt eyes on me; intensely staring at me. It made me uncomfortable, but I wasn't about to do anything to let him know that.

"Are you going to say something or just stand there and stare at me all day long?" I asked, annoyed that he had been standing there for at least five minutes doing nothing but staring at me.

"What's the matter, Jessica? Don't like people to stare at you the way I'm doing?" his amusement was evident in his voice.

I scoffed, "No, I usually don't mind that, but you're an exception since you see me as an object that you can claim as yours and not as a human being. There's a difference, you know."

"You're in my world now, Jessica and here, humans are seen as objects that serve only two purposes; either as pets or food. You should be thankful that I'm keeping you as the former."

I snorted, "I've told you before, asshole, I'd rather be dead than here right now."

"And I've told you that I have no intentions of killing you any time soon," he said, "Now, I didn't come down here to discuss these things. I have important matters to attend to so I just want to know if you're ready to talk now, sweetheart?"

"No! And stop fucking calling me that, asshole!" I ordered, "I am not your sweetheart." I would have glared at him, but the damn hood was still over my head.

"Keep in mind that I am still counting the number of times that you use the word, Jessica. I heard you use them earlier too, so the number is now seventeen. I hope for your sake, you don't make it go any higher than that."