you want me to walk her like she's your dog?

“Is that why my last masters always drank it?” she said with false curiosity, as if that was the excuse they needed to get wasted. She fell silent again for a moment, and then huffed a soft laugh at his words. “Maybe it’s fun seeing how far I can twist your face around.” Anything was better than thinking about his eyes on her back, and the tattered fur there.

She let out a soft breath, and more words slipped out. Honest ones, instead of cruel or sassy. “It’s harder to hurt you when they don’t know what actually hurts.” she was looking at the bedding beneath her, her skin prickled. Not from the ointment, but at the horrible feeling of being seen.


"Speech"