OK! WORD OF WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER...this is one of the DARKER chapters; it very much borderlines on an M-rating, however, while I apologize if it makes you cringe and wince, I did feel it was necessary to explore this dark corner of Larry's mind, to show just how *consumed* his obsession is. After all, that's the point of this fic, to get "nitty gritty" into Larry's character and flesh him out a bit more from the cartoon villain we were presented! Anyway, just be prepared.
Valentine's Day
February, 1917
"Yes…" he murmurs, gazing at the lovely girl before him, taking in her features, her curves, her hair. "Yes, she'll do very nicely."
He goes to his room then, where he proceeds to have a brandy and smoke a cigar. Within a matter of minutes, he hears the door open, and listens at it clicks shut and she fully steps inside.
"Come here," he orders, not bothering to rise.
His obedient dove obeys, moving to his side. He reaches out and takes her hand, pulling her around until she's face him.
"Kneel," he instructs, and once again, she obeys, falling to her knees, though she misinterprets his order because she begins to undo the belt of his dressing gown. "No!" he harshly hisses, to which she flinches slightly and eases away, her blue eyes lowered as she awaits his next order.
He takes a long puff on his cigar, his eyes moving over her again, before speaking. "Your name…is Sybil."
She lifts her eyes then, and he can't help but smile at their blue color.
"Now tell me," he takes a drink from his glass. "What is your name?"
Her lashes brush against her face as she demurely looks down, before softly murmuring, "Sybil."
He smiles. "You will ONLY answer to Sybil…and when I speak to you, you will answer by saying…'yes, Larry'." He pauses and watches her. "Do you understand…Sybil?"
She shyly lifts her eyes. "Yes, Larry."
He frowns. She needs to work on her accent. "Huskier," he orders. "And lighter, too. Don't over-emphasize the 'R's'."
She nods her head. "Yes, Larry."
"Better," he mutters. It's not perfect, but it will do. "Now…stand back up…and undress for me."
"Yes, Larry."
He watches closely, his eyes not blinking, as she shrugs her silk robe off, revealing to him milky curves that he can only imagine look like hers beneath those gowns that she wears. Large breasts, a supple waist, ample hips, creamy thighs, shapely legs…yes, this is his Sybil. This is the body that has haunted him for so long, that transformed multiple times from child to girl to ugly duckling to a beautiful swan.
"Lie down on the bed," he orders next, swallowing the lump in his throat and uncomfortably shifting in his seat.
"Yes, Larry," she murmurs again, before doing just as he commanded. One day Sybil will do as he commands; one day she will see reason.
He rises from his chair and begins shedding his clothes, his eyes never leaving her body. "Scoot back further, into shadow…" he commands. While his substitute has dark hair, full lips, and blue eyes, it's easier to believe the illusion if he can't see her face completely.
"I'm your first, aren't I, Sybil?"
"Yes, Larry."
"You want me, don't you, Sybil?"
"Yes, Larry."
"Not that grubby little mick," he growls, his anger still fresh since that humiliating Christmas. Why he didn't report the bastard, he'll never know; perhaps because of the way Sybil looked at him, her eyes large and full of worry. Another reason to have his substitute hide her face; he doesn't want to be reminded of Sybil's eyes, or the magic spell they can weave on him.
"I…" speaking of his substitute, she's confused by his question. It goes against what he had originally ordered, but before the illusion can break, he reaches forward and grabs her about the waist, flipping her over onto her stomach so he can fool himself as he looks down at her creamy back, and the cascade of mahogany curls that crown her head.
"You're MINE, Sybil!" he growls, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her back against him.
"Yes, Larry—Oh!" she gasps when contact is made.
He grits his teeth as the game changes. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the task at hand. While he moves, while he strokes, while he touches, all he can see and feel is her. His beautiful Sybil, his sweet Sybil, his responsive Sybil, HIS Sybil!
"MINE! MINE! MINE!" he shouts until he throws his head back and roars his pleasure.
He collapses on the bed then, groaning as the last of the aftershocks leaves his body. His eyes are still closed, and in his imagination she's curling up beside him, seeking his warmth, whimpering how wonderful he was, how good he made her feel…
"You love me…don't you, Sybil?" he whispers in the dark, his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to break the spell.
There's a pause, before a voice responds at last. "Yes, Larry."