Cry Baby I was raised on a leash. Not metaphorically or poetically… An actual fucking collar around my throat, bolted to the concrete beside Mistress’s bed.
I learned early on that obedience tasted better than starvation and blood could be washed away, where broken bones couldn’t be.
At night I was freed from my chains… sent as her prized dog to hunt for her next bitch. My job was Find them, break them, sell them. Until him… He thought he was hunting a monster.
He didn’t realize I was leading him straight into my cage.
