Deserae

Chapter 23

Although I have this dream a lot, I never quite figure out what the 'this' is that I'm talking about. It just seems like the right thing to say at the time, so I always let it slip and wait for her reaction. Her eyes grow wide and her hands raise in defense, but I can't speak to her and tell her that everything's going to be okay.

My Wolf growls at her defiance, and she put her hands back down on the pine needle- covered ground. She tries to steady her breath but to no avail, and she remains just a panting, sweating mess on the forest floor. But I don't care about that, I just focus on every detail of her face as if I'm seeing it for the first time.

"Please..." she whispers.

"I'm sorry." and the next thing I hear is a scream, but my vision goes black before I can do anything or stop my Wolf. That's always the nightmare I have pretty regularly, and it started from the moment she came into my life. It's never bothered me before, but, now that I know that I care deeply for her, I can't shake the feeling the Moon Goddess is trying to tell me something.

"~Mistress~" Rae moaned, I looked down and saw that my hands were loosely around her throat, as if, at any minute, I could choke her and have her strangling beneath me. She paused, then asked quietly, "Is something wrong?"

I shook my head and smiled, leaning up and taking a few steps away from the bed to give her room to sit up, but also to give myself some distance from her, "No, darling, I'm just enjoying the view."

She stood and crossed her arms over herself rather embarrassed, "Is there anything you would like me to do for you?"

My head shook again, "No, pet, I believe that's enough for tonight. Get dressed and go back upstairs, then shower and get cleaned up. I should be back by then but, if I'm not, just go to bed without me. Alright?" Rae nodded, taking my instructions very seriously as she slipped her clothes back on and climbed the stairs.

To be honest with myself, I don't really remember much of what I did to her, undoing the restraints, or putting her in them, the punishments I gave or the commands I uttered, I don't remember much of anything. I was trapped in my mind for most of it though, so I suppose there's not much to worry about. She wasn't limping or anything, and we'll have plenty more moments like that one, so I'll pay more attention to all of those.

I went over to a little table on the wall right beside the stairs, with two glasses on it and three different bottles of my favorite drinks. The plate the pieces are on is chilled from underneath, so the whiskey and scotch are always cold no matter what temperature the room is.

So I poured myself a three-finger glass of Isabella's Islay and went back over to the bed, sitting on the now-messed-up sheets and looking around the room. At all of the toys and the playthings that I've used on pets and slaves for years. I've gotten better toys of course, and often get completely new sets whenever I get a new pet, but the toys themselves are always the same material and the same designs. Always from this one shop that knows what I like and what I'm into.

I sighed deeply, when did I start this? I knew that I was supposed to be dominant at about thirteen, being the sub was never a fun thought for me. But I didn't get my first pet until I was sixteen, and I believe that's when all of this started.

They were quite a rebellious pet, one that didn't listen and always thought they could get away with everything. I tried to train them to the best of my ability, but no matter what I did or didn't do, they fought back. So I decided to start punishing them more severely than just refusing them dinner, and I bought my first whip.

Even though I was inexperienced, I made sure to do a lot of research on the topic and figured out the proper distance to stand from my pet, how to hold the whip, things like that. I picked up the tactic quickly, and, before I knew it, I was hoping my pet would be disrespectful. Because I knew that, whenever he was bad, I got to practice more and more on my dominance and my control over him, even though his life ended up paying the price.

That's right, isn't it? Did I end up killing him? I had him for about a year, and that's a long time for a Wolf's first pet, but yeah, I kept him alive for a little short of a year. Then I did what most Wolves do when they've grown bored of their pet. I took him outside and, with my eyes glowing gold, said, "Run."

He took off into the woods, and I gave him a bit of a head start before chasing after him. Because it was dusk the trees provided a ton of cover, letting my Wolf form hide in the shadows, unable to be seen by his human eyes.

So, I would attack him on occasion, bite him then run back into the shadows and watch as he bled out the longer he ran. I would jump and sink my teeth into his shoulder, my weight pulling him to the ground and his scream ripping through the air, but I let go just as quickly and hid in the shadows again.

I bit him anywhere I knew it would hurt. His shoulders, legs, stomach, pretty much anywhere that would make the pain unbearable and make him crave for it to be over. When he finally did want it to end, when he dropped to his knees and cried out into the night, "Kill me!"

I approached him slowly. Like I wanted to prolong the torment and just wanted to watch him suffer, because, let's face it, I did. I tortured him and made him bleed, I made him hurt and cry because I enjoyed it. The power I had over him, the rush of dominance it gave me whenever he would say, "Mistress, please make it end."

When I got close enough, my jaws locked around his throat and I twisted my head quickly, snapping his neck so that he didn't have to feel the pain anymore. He was my first kill, and I remember being a little torn up about it. But then, I thought, that he was just a pet. He'd served his purpose and now it was time for me to move on and get a different pet.

I swallowed the glass all at once, feeling the familiar burn of the scotch as it ran down my throat. I used to hate the feeling, but now it distracts me from the pain in other parts of my life, so I embrace the burning. But I can't stay down here and drink forever, I need to go up and face that problem I've created.

Maybe it's my problem because I can't control myself around her. I can't imagine a world without her and yet, I want to be able and be independent of her. We've only been together for a couple of months, that's including when I was a bitch to her, and yet, I know that she's the one for me. So is it bad that she's a problem?

That beautiful brunette of a problem, with her soft features and crimson eyes. The blush on her cheeks whenever I give her attention and other people are around. How she constantly tries to make me happy and never thinks of herself. The beautiful woman that I've trapped within the castle walls just by showing affection, the woman I don't have to threaten because she never tries to leave.

I sighed again, content with myself for once, yeah, that problem.