Annette Hargrove was a fairy princess, a china doll; and once, a cherry blossom. An upstanding young woman, whose simplicity and self righteousness challenged the wayward. A tangent bet with Kathryn Merteuil became a personal challenge, and Sebastian was forced to swallow the blonde's personality like a large pill. His focus on her was so steady and so sharp that the superficial things in life which truly mattered had begun to blur. His obsession, a malevolent breed, was so aggressive and twisted and painful, that it could only have been mistaken for that high-in-sky, heavenly emotion known as love.

Like in all desires, the passion subsided, and once he had achieved his goal the effort of sustaining their relationship was no longer worth it. For the history books, yes, she did cry. A loud, hiccupping, wail. Cursing him, asking "Why?" and crying more. But that detail can be scanned and tossed away, for all women are fierce in their emotions, tears hot and voices loud in an attempt to guilt the immune heart of a man. "Why?" She had question, needing rational to band-aid her broken heart. A condescending, impatient sigh had answered followed by a shrug which claimed he had no answer. But mentally he had remarked, 'Well, I was bored, I guess.'

Sebastian knew better than to stand by a woman like Annette Hargrove. To do so would surely end his life.

His prize was Kathryn; cat like in her movements, with regal posture and cruelty in her intents. A heart of stone to couple his own, when they smashed together there were sparks. Slowly, their relations had become regular, although, no less impassioned.

Moments before she had stood above him, a daunting presence, or maybe it had just been her candour when she told him where to put it. He had declined what she said was a demand and not an offer. Quickly, her aggression transformed into a pout, and raking her fingers through the small curls at the nape of his neck, while her other hand dipped into others more forbidden, she asked with the kindness of a minx. He had shooed her irritably away, dropping the weight of his journal on her tempting hand. The appendage drew back and he half expected to hear the hiss of an ill-tempered feline.

"Fine," she declared with a coyness that caused him to worry. And with a self pleased smile, "I'll just help myself."

"Enjoy," he hastily replied, cracking the spine of his journal as he flipped it open to a fresh page.

A ballpoint pen transcribed his thoughts in a neat script, but barely a paragraph had been jotted before he became highly aware of the noise coming from his bedroom. It was unmistakable, the acute moan of a woman; drops of pleasure gathering in the throat before spouting out of lips like a fountain of song. The pen stopped, as did his thoughts, as he sat still so not even the rustling of fabric would ruin the exaggerated whimper. It was loud. Pornographic. A sound, a command, forcing him to rise.

"Kathryn," he called, starting sing-song, but the end of her name was tainted with his bad temperament. "Will you shut your face hole."

There was a surprised shriek, as she discovered some secret spot of pleasure, before her breathy voice answered, "Leave me alone."

Sebastian turned to focus on his journal, rereading the words he had already written. The room had become quiet again, and satisfied, he went back to pen his thoughts. The ballpoint faltered in his grip, however, shaken when a sound of pure Kathryn filtered through the room with new enthusiasm. Explicit thoughts ransacked his imagination. In the spot light was her naked body surging toward a climax, her hand between her legs as she searched for the perfect high.

A grumble moved his lips as he tossed his journal aside, stood, and walked toward his bedroom. When he pushed open the door the half lit room exposed his bare half-sister, on all fours, one hand holding a vibrating device behind her, his sudden appearance halting it mid thrust. She smiled at his displeasure, posed in her position of masturbation.

"My marionette," she titled.

"Your finger puppet."

"My dummy."

"I told you to shut up." To this she didn't answer, only stared, still penetrated by her found object as he loosened his shirt collar and pulled the expensive garment over his head. "Now you're going to get it." And at last, she smiled genuinely.