The Sins of the Father

There He Kept Her Very Well

"Please, let me go."

This was becoming routine for us. The woman whining, crying sniveling for nought. Washing her freshly applied mascara off with her never ending supply of tears. Leaving behind black trails under her blindfold and cheeks. Her lipstick would be embedded into her cracked peeling lips. Lips that she would out of nervousness, continue to lick.

Her eyes were covered with a red silk belt that I purchased just for her, in more than one color. The area where her eyes came in contact with the soft material, was a tad bit darker by the wetness of tears. I began pacing left to right. Enjoying, the way her head followed the sound her ears picked up.

She began biting into her quivering lips.

"I promise I won't tell anyone. If its money you want, my father is loaded with it. Just let me go."

At my silence, her head pitched forward on her chest, mouth opened wide in a silent scream as spittle began to build. Finally, the overflow dangles into her lap.

"Now, now, that isn't how a lady behaves herself."

Drawing a tissue from my pocket I walked up to her and dabbed her mouth. Making sure to be careful not to tear the already, cracked lips.

"I'm not a ladyyyyy, you sick bastard!" The thick veins of her neck inflates like midsize worms underneath the skin. She began testing the restraints at her wrist and ankles with more vigor than before. Shaking them, as if they would magically drop off and disappear.

"Oh but you are. My little lady." I corrected, making sure to emphasize the word, my.

She was indeed mine, after paying a hefty sum for the notorious Sleeping Beauty. I then had her temporary paralyzed body transferred to my car. After picking her immobile body up out of the car, I was left with the task of carrying her to one of the panic rooms in my home. I remembered admiring her then, just like I'm doing now.

Her face scrunched up, as if she could see my enamored stare. A muffled cry escaped her pinched lips.

Defeated, she dropped her head backwards. Her chest moved up and down as she dry sobbed. She was exquisite. Her beauty, had been hidden beneath clumps of make up and dirt upon our first meeting. A work of art. My art. As with any canvas, I had to start with a blank surface.

I made quick work of changing and disposing of that abhorrent, whorish outfit she wore, before she awaken to her current predicament.

The previous injected serum, had worked so thoroughly, she remained unconscious as I bathed her in goat milk. Her head would rock back and forth as I shampooed, lathered and rinsed her auburn blonde strands. Pushing her limp head forward towards her chest, made it easier to plait her thick mane, while wet in a single braid. The after effect would reveal beautiful, loose waves, that would cascade around the different gowns worn.

Wrapping the fluffy towel around her nude body, I deposited her onto the single nearby chair. The remnants of the water droplets clung to her face like second skin. She will now be transformed into the lady she was always meant to be I thought. Applying light makeup to enhance her natural beauty, and painstakingly dressing her in one of the many, array of elegant dresses.

Each day I chose a different dress for her to be attired in. Today I chose the Elie Saab evening wear in red, because of the renewed passion to cleanse her of her filth. The red material bared her shoulders and concealed her breast. Cinched her waist, with a built in corset, the remaining material flowed all the way to her chained bare feet. Her delicate hands were covered in black silk gloves that stopped at her elbow, trimmed in red.

There, resting a top her red covered breast, laid a beautiful prong set, oval ruby drop pendant, with a diamond halo. With the metal chain being made of platinum. A total of 1.78 carats, was graced around her lovely porcelain neck.

I outdid myself this time. The timer went off. It was time for her to receive her next dosage. "No, please don't, please...Don't. My heart ached to hear her wounded cries of fear and pain. This had to be done, she had to be cleansed. I took a needle out of a small white cooler. Pulled the tiny orange lid off, that revealed the tiny acicular tip .

Her hearing was so acute, she was able to follow the hollowed sound of the tiny cap, as it made contact with the floor. She began thrashing wildly as my heavy footsteps neared her. Stopping in front of her, I bent down and whispered,

"This is for your own good."

Yanking her head to one side, I pressed the needle, making sure to release any air bubbles that may have formed. Her neck was red and had little pricks scattered from previous injections.

"No, no no no," escaped pass her lips in a chant. Finding a clear area, I inserted it firmly into the pulsing vein.

"No!"

She screamed, wailed until she was choking on her sobs. She began drooling on her shimmering gown. Splatters of wetness, sporadically ran between her breast and the material that covered them. Making the red appear darker. Finally, submitting to the relaxing liquid shooting through her veins.

Her body limp, as the task of bathing and redressing her began anew. Her first words of " Please let me go" would be spoken, again as she awakened, from her forced induced "sleep".