The thing to remember about breaking a person in is that it's a process of slow, deliberate atrocity.
I had my idiots bring me a huge breakfast—bacon, coffee, orange juice, toast, fried eggs, oatmeal, and sausage. I don't usually eat this much, and there's no way I could have finished it, but I was making a point and not eating for pleasure.
She woke immediately when I got out of bed, which just reminds me to take my naps elsewhere. She sleeps too lightly to be trusted to stay asleep.
Her stomach growled at the smell, but she didn't move. When I walked around the bed, I could see her staring at the food on my desk. I'm actually not entirely sure when she ate last. From experience I know that the stomach cramps after a few days of starving are fucking excruciating.
Hunger is a useful tool. It takes very little energy to impose and they have to eat to live, so even if they want to be defiant, they'll still end up caving in to save their lives.
Well, usually. She's certainly selfish enough not to suffer from any martyrdom. If she were prey to that particular bit of nonsense, I would never have bought her with me.
I ate it in front of her, slowly, making a huge show of ignoring her. I was half-hoping she'd actually beg for food, but she's still just a little too strong-willed to let me have the display.
Fine with me. This kind of foreplay is always better if they don't give in easily.
I could only get half a plate or so down, but that was fine. She followed the food out of the room with her eyes, teeth embedded in her bloody lower lip. She'd chewed it to bits watching me eat.
This particular office doesn't have a shower, but it doesn't hurt either of us to experience a little mutual privation—it's good for my willpower and it helps me to separate her from her routines. I did my washing up with a hose before dragging her in and giving her a good scrub.
She didn't fight me, which either means that she's given up already or, more likely, she's decided to look for a chance to make it count.
This is pretty much exactly what I want. If that sounds like a weird thing to say, think about it like this: if she's motivated by self-preservation, she'll still have enough autonomy to be useful to me when I'm done playing god with her.
Another common mistake in this process is trying to make a total sock-puppet of your toy. If you manage, you have to do their thinking for them. That shit is boring, as well as liable to cause the girl to poison you instead of trying to undermine you, or to subvert you, or just escape.
I prefer the intellectual pleasure of trying to figure out how she's plotting against me. And I get annoyed enough by apathy without giving myself a living monument to it.
She did go all stiff when I started measuring her, mostly because it involved me bending her over and running the tape measure up the inside of her thigh. I do love provoking a reaction in her.
That librarian costume and her easy embarrassment was an inspiration early on. She has the same stupid monkey instincts as most people—naughty, naughty, mustn't let others see your nakedness and your shame. I decided early on that when I started dressing her, it would be aggressively sexual.
She'll have to feel all those taboos all over again, all those scolding mommies and daddies telling her that her body is dirty. She'll feel dirty, and chaos knows my idiots will make her feel dirty when they see her wearing what I have in mind.
I have to break her of all that shit, all those stupid taboos.
Just think of me as the great liberator of terrified blonde academics.
Besides, the costume and her shame make for nice scenery.
I don't know what I was doing all night, but it wasn't quite sleeping. When he moved, I was awake immediately. The chain hurt where it lay pressed into my waist all night, I had to pee, and frankly I was a little afraid he'd just start up molesting me as soon as he woke up.
Instead, he called down for food.
I feel like I should have expected this—I should have expected that he'd eat in front of me after I threw the kibble at him. I should have expected that he'd punish defiance, and he's apparently serious about making me eat the kibble.
I should have expected everything he's done so far. I'm a trained professional, a doctor. My specialty is the mind and its disorders. I should have expected him to be exactly what he seems to be, should expect him to do exactly what it seems like he's doing.
It's just that… it's just that you can't quite believe someone would do this to you.
Stupid. So stupid. It's stupid. I'm stupid to believe anything else.
I can't believe he is willing to do this, but there he was eating bacon and waiting for a response. He didn't look at me, but he just looked expectant.
I'm grateful for the pounding headache and urge to throw up that ambushed me as soon as I woke up. Apparently, I am going to go through some withdrawal.
It could be much worse, really, than this. I did a rotation in Arkham's drying out facility. I've seen the hard cases sober up, and this is practically nothing compared to that.
Even if I feel like shit.
At least it gave me something else to think about while he ate. It's amazing how loud the sound of someone eating can be—it felt like he was scraping the inside of my ears as he chewed.
I'm pretty sure I'm hungry somewhere under all this, but I'm not feeling it yet. Just the overwhelming urge to… for a bathroom.
I am not using the bucket in front of him.
He measured me. Clothes? Restraints? What fresh hell is he planning?
I can't stop myself from flinching when he touches me, even when he's being gentle. I just keep remembering him knocking me out. I don't even think he broke a sweat the whole time. Not over knocking me out, and he hasn't seemed to sweat hauling me around like a doll.
It has to be instrumental. He isn't nice enough to be gentle for its own sake.