(im)Perfect

• o n e •

"maybe, just maybe, everything and everyone has a place. Or maybe, just maybe, that's what they tell us to keep us believing"

Wednesdays were the absolute worst.

After the beds were all made, Gaines shuffled his feet down the corridor making sure each bed was made to the standard of perfection. He had shaved recently which made his face seem a little softer but nothing could lessen that gleam in his eyes. The gleam they all had. Halfway down he tore the bedding from a cot with a sloppily folded corner. The sub, a mousy little thing frightened of his own shadow, dropped to knees, practically begging forgiveness that he knew he'd never get.

Idiot.

But he got off easy, four hits on the palm with a strap was nothing. There were two separate housing quarters here at the Post, separated by sex. Rumor had it the girls had it easier but I begged to differ. If anything they were simply tougher than most of the subs over here. Not that it was hard. They were all sheep, gladly being herded around in hopes of being selected during a walk through or put up on stage.

I glanced at the barren brick walls with loathing. It wasn't the control these subs wanted, it some just some fucking humanity. To be treated as humans rather than toys to be preened and perfected in hopes of one day being able to call somewhere home. To have someone love them and to be able to love someone back. To get back those fleeting memories from the group homes, maybe? For those who had a decent group home experience that is--but at least there you could decorate the walls above your bed. But the Trainers didn't see us anything more than just volume product, shuffled in and out.

I suppose personalizing us made it harder to pass us up to anyone would could show a slip of paper claiming they passed a semester long course in high school that made them qualified to take on such a serious role. But money was more important than all else and the lucky subs, born to money, were held to a totally different standard than us.

But no one was luckier than those born as Doms.

Gaines hesitated by my bed, as if urging me to look up at him. I wanted too. I wanted so badly to just say fuck it and looked at those brown eyes and accept all the punishment that would come with it. But I was hungry and two days with nothing but water for disobedience was starting to wear on me.

I listened to him shuffle onward and I blew out a heated breath as I ached to defy him publicly.

After he had moved on to the next quarter were were free to move around. Subs clumped naturally, like lint, whispering and giggling about something idiotic and meaningless. Mouse was looked down at his welted palms looking as if he had never worn a mark of punishment before. The sub who slept beside me I had nicknamed Giggles in my head because he never spoke when his little group got together they always did it at his bed and while they would whisper amongst themselves he never said a word. They would look at him occasionally, bright smiles on their face and his response was always the same: this boyish, probably cute but unbelievably obnoxious giggle.

One night I had spoken to him, desperate to know if he was even capable of speech. I had asked him his name and he had looked up at me with too big turquoise eyes and looked unbelievably confused a moment. But then he blinked at they were back to sparkling with amusement and he just fucking giggled and fell promptly asleep.

I suppose we were all a little strange in our own ways though. In a such a rigid living structure it was hard to be normal. I wasn't your typical sub and thank God for that. If I was anything like Mouse or Giggles I wouldn't have lasted. Not all the subs were exceedingly social like the ones who grouped together. Some had plopped down on the floor in front of their bed staring blankly at nothing. A few wore an idiotic grin as they hugged their knees with their clenched shut.