Are We Human? Ch. 03

Lady Sparrow panted weakly, "Slow... slowly pull them..."

There are two philosophies to cold pools and band-aids: either it's better to go slowly and disperse the pain, or it's better to go all in and get it over with. Determining the better of the two philosophies is difficult because it's misery either way, and anyone who makes a choice will always end up wishing he or she had chosen the other option. As her pet's fingers crept out gradually against her frazzled walls, Lady Sparrow was not pondering the connection between this philosophical question and her own predicament. Instead, she was merely wishing that she had ordered her pet to yank them out fast and get it over with.

When she was finally free from the burning of his touch, Lady Sparrow crumpled in her chair and brought her shaking knees together. Drew knelt patiently before her, inspecting the layer of wetness that had adhered itself to his skin. It took her a moment to regain her composure, but once her eyelids fluttered open and her focus returned, her gaze descended onto the cum-covered boy at her feet.

"Don't just stare at it," she instructed, strength returning to her voice. "Suck it clean, slut."

Drew looked up to meet the gaze. She ensnared his mind in her beautiful eyes, the eyes that picked and pecked and chipped away at him, uncovering his barest soul and making it vulnerable to her ridicule. Still trapped within them, Drew curled his tongue around his two fingers and savored Lady Sparrow's cum. He pursed his lips around their tips and bobbed his head to slide them in and out. He was putting his sluttiness on display, yearning to elicit the gleeful reprimand from his mistress. Lady Sparrow's mouth parted with enthused disbelief at the show her pet was putting on for her.

"I didn't realize I had picked such a shameless whore to be my slave. You know you can't pretend around me, so you may as well let yourself be as deplorable and pathetic as your heart desires." she mocked.

The warm glow hummed inside Drew's chest, and Lady Sparrow delighted in seeing it manifest itself in his rapid blinking, his clenching hand, his loud breathing, his quickened sucking motion and his ceaselessly swollen cock. She leaned down and pulled his fingers away from his mouth, then she sat back and patted her thigh. Her pet raised from the ground and lowered himself gently onto her lap, his legs perpendicular to hers. Lady Sparrow twirled a finger in his hair and guided his neck toward her mouth. A shudder passed through the boy's body as the feeling of her thin lips on his bruises illuminated his memories. They ached at her touch and longed for more.

Drew's eyes closed as Lady Sparrow's mouth caressed his colored neck. He didn't notice her hand drawing nearer to his cock until the brushing of a single fingertip made his entire body twist into stiff paralysis. She pulled away from his neck so he could hear her giggling at his reaction. Her hand curled widely around it, offering him the surface of her soft skin devoid of any pressure. It traveled ethereally along his shaft, as light and as warm as the breeze. All it required was the slightest touch, and Drew was gasping audibly.

"When I see you on the ground like that, embracing your own dirty fantasies for my enjoyment, you can't imagine how it makes my mind race," she whispered to him. "You look so cute, so ripe for torment."

Squeezed harder. Stroked faster.

"I want to breathe in the desperation you exude. I'm going to degrade you, suffocate you in shame so profound it'll frighten you, but you won't be able to help yourself. You'll watch on in terror as you beg to be humiliated, as you kiss my feet and plead to be allowed to serve as my whore. You'll look at the way I've reduced you to a worthless, empty slut, and the only thing you'll be able to do is ask me, pretty please, for more."

Drew's jaw hung low. The picture unfurled before him, Lady Sparrow's jarring prophecy of his lust turning to gluttony for the abuse, the derogation, the relentless reminder of his sick perversion. He wanted it; oh how he wanted it. But it was wrong; oh how it was wrong. He knew he should be revulsed at the thought of being anyone's worthless, empty slut, but when Lady Sparrow said it, he wished she would write it across his body in bold red marker. The shame was already seeping into him; it seared like poison and lifted like a narcotic.

"You can't escape it," she told him. "I control you, I'm irresistible to you. I'm in your thoughts. I'm in your dreams. You need me to break you down until there's nothing left but a mindless slave who sucks and fucks and begs and bleeds and suffers at my will. Say it."

"I need you," he admitted.

"More."

He was panting now.

"I belong to you."

"More."

"Please make me your slave. Let me be your whore."

"You're so fucking weak. So fucking powerless."

He was frantic now.

"I'm weak I'm powerless oh my God Lady Sparrow I'm yours I'm yours I'm-"

She felt him twitch. His words collapsed into sounds of madness. Lady Sparrow stared dumbfounded as the toy in her hand erupted and out it came, unannounced, unwelcome. The hardwood floor now a Jackson Pollack. Her hand, her breasts. Drew didn't care. He had finished and a filter of bliss had descended upon his world. The church bells rang for him alone. When his convulsions passed, he draped himself around his benefactor and thanked her frailly.

"Did you just cum... without my permission?" Lady Sparrow asked him in a tone of distant shock.

"I... what?" the dazed pet asked in return.

She gently gripped his chin in her dry hand and brought his face to hers. Her hazel eyes were uncharacteristically wide.

"Did you... just cum... without my permission?" she repeated.

This time, it was reality's turn to slap Drew across the cheek. If it weren't for the bruises on his neck, all of the color would have drained right out of his skin.

"Lady Sparrow, I am so so sorry, I can't believe I did that. I got too carried away, I... I should not have done that and... it'll never happen again. Believe me, never again!"

She cast him off stoically and reached for the paper towels to wipe herself off. Her expression was frozen, the infraction still processing in her mind. Drew got down on his knees.

"Please forgive me. I'm the worst ever, I don't deserve to have you as my mistress! I should... I should be punished! Whatever you think is fair, just please please forgive me Lady Sparrow!"

Finally, she heard him. Her faraway eyes came to focus on his trembling, terrified figure. Too ashamed to return her gaze, Drew bowed his head to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly.

Lady Sparrow reached down and caressed his hair.

"I forgive you, baby."

Drew raised his head. Lady Sparrow smiled at him, warm and genuine.

"Everything's alright," she soothed, placing her hand on his cheek. "We all make mistakes sometimes."

She tore off a sheet from the roll, and Drew rushed to clean up his mess. The whole time he repeated, "thank you, thank you, thank you Lady Sparrow."

Her eyes narrowed as she watched him clean. When he looked up again, they were soft and comforting and full of lies. Lady Sparrow crouched down to kiss his forehead.

"I hope you'll be able to learn from this," she implored gently.

Drew nodded.

"I will."

Lady Sparrow nodded.

"You will."

The transgression had been pardoned. Drew's head was pulled away from the chopping block, and he felt the knot in his stomach unwind. As he navigated into yesterday's wrinkled clothes, however, he couldn't help but glance back at her, expecting a delayed acrimony to cascade upon her and then, ultimately, on him as well. And yet, even when she caught him staring at her fastening her bra, she responded with all smile and no scorn. Slowly, he came to accept her gift of mercy. After all, he had been put through a lot this weekend; a reprieve from the onslaught of hostility should be welcomed, not scrutinized.

Abby slipped a navy blue dress over her frame; the pleated base grazed the tops of her knees and reached up to her abdomen, where the dividing line was marked with a white bow. She pulled her white socks over her calves and completed her ensemble with her thick-rimmed glasses before turning back to her pet.

"Ready to go?" Abby asked him.

Drew paused to revel in her appearance, then replied, "yes Lady Sparrow."

She smirked and made for the front door, with Drew following close behind. Standing outside, Drew was finally able to see Abby's house in pure daylight, as opposed to in the gloomy dusk of Saturday or the drunken darkness of Friday night. Apart from the vibrant flowers that raised up their green stalks to pinks and purples and yellows and draped down in whites, the house was nondescript. It had its modest size and its unremarkable beige, and it made no indication of the royalty that dwelled within. But that was the luxury of Lady Sparrow's royalty: with the whole world beneath her, there was no one left for her to impress. Abby locked up her humble home and dropped the keys into her small leather purse.

"So, which way are we going?" she asked.

"Well, I live on Dendro Avenue, a couple blocks that way and that way," Drew described, pointing his finger westward down the road then gesturing to the right.

"Lead on, then," she told him, urging him forward with a gesture of her own.

Confused, Drew inquired, "you're gonna walk me home?"

"You don't seem thrilled at the prospect of my continued company. Now that you got your nut off you don't wanna see me anymore?"

Abby wasn't attempting to hide her sardonic sarcasm, but Drew's groveling response was replete with sincerity.

"No no, of course I want you to walk with me! I was just asking is all. That's all."

"Well ask again, boy, and make me feel welcome this time," she insisted.

Drew attempted, "would you please walk me home, Lady Sparrow?"

A coy smile indicated the success of his appeasement. Abby echoed her urging gesture, and the two of them walked to the corner of Stygian Street and beyond. It was pleasant for the first few blocks; although the nights were getting colder with each passing week, the days were still reliable in their warmth whenever the Sun was out, and today, they were lucky. They made the right onto Norman Boulevard, and the quiet side street gave way to a lively road bustling with a steady stream of cars. The human race was out in force, hurrying to complete this chore or that task; they lugged their groceries back from the store, they tended to the fading greenery in the yard, they shambled their way to the library with a backbreaking burden of neglected schoolwork draped over their shoulders. Abby winced at the sight of the suffering legion of procrastinators whose ranks she was fated to join.

Drew's own misery arose in a different form. As he walked by the shoppers, landscapers, and procrastinators, he always managed to catch their eyes. The human race noticed Drew; they would observe him in a perfunctory way at first, but then their glances would linger. Sometimes they would notice his disheveled clothing and messy hair, and other times, they would zero right in on the chorus of bruises screaming from his neck. Either way, it was unavoidable; he was under the world's microscope now. He felt them make their observations, and when he sheepishly met their invasive gazes, he could see them churning out inferences in their heads.

"Holy shit, those are some nasty looking hickeys," they would think.

"Walks of shame are a normal part of college, I know, but... that's really shameful looking," they would murmur.

"Who the fuck would let someone else do that to them?" they would ask.

"Looks like someone had fun," they would laugh.

"I bet he moaned like a bitch when she did it to him."

"Do you think he asked her for those?"

"He probably begged her for them."

"Doesn't even care that everyone can see it."

"It probably gets him off."

"What a fucking sicko."

"Sick in the head."

"Be ashamed."

"Slut boy."

"Are we making you hard?"

Drew's abrupt left turn caught Abby off guard. She shook away the stressful thoughts that had clouded her focus and pursued her frantic pet across the boulevard. He dipped down another side street, then turned right again and continued toward his home.

"A little advanced notice would've been nice!" she cried. "God, now I know why I'm always the one who leads."

"It was busy is all. I like taking the road less traveled," Drew explained, maintaining an aloof exterior.

Abby was a bloodhound for bullshit. She had a keen ability for feeling the emotions in the air, especially when they betrayed the words that others offered to her. Drew assured her that things were fine, but the assurance came out too quickly, threatening to stumble over itself. Although the street was deserted, he walked fast with his head down. Abby read people at an expert level, and Drew was a cheap romance novel that listed its tropes on the back cover. She had him pegged, as usual.

"Now what've you got against being around people?" she inquired, nonchalantly throwing an arm around him to slow him down.

"Well, nothing. I just thought it would be more peaceful over here is all," he answered.

She pressed, "you don't seem at peace, my dear. You seem... flustered."

"It takes a lot more than that to fluster me," the boy insisted.

Abby threw her head back and cackled.

"Did you actually just say that? You get flustered every time I open my mouth, you pathetic little worm."

Drew bit his lip, his facade starting to crack under her scrutiny. She noticed, and it urged her to torment him further.

"What's the matter, baby?" she asked, playfully feigning concern. "Are you... embarrassed about something?"

She brushed the back of her hand against the bruises on his neck. The slut marks had done exactly what she had intended them to do. Drew shook his head but didn't respond.

"Could it be... could it be those giant fucking hickeys all over your neck? I think that could be it. I think you're embarrassed because all the good, honest people over there could see what a dirty whore you are."

"No..." he mumbled weakly.

"They all know your ass belongs to me. I may as well be dragging you on a leash, with a nice leather collar and a tag that reads 'Drew Lawson, property of Lady Sparrow. If found, please return to his mistress so she can punish him for being a bad little puppy.' Wouldn't that be adorable?"

When Drew failed to reply, Abby prodded his bruise and demanded his full attention.

"I asked you a question, shit head," she hissed. "Wouldn't you look adorable in a collar and leash being paraded around the neighborhood?"

"Yes Lady Sparrow. I would look adorable," he agreed without enthusiasm.

"You're God damn right you would. So until I get your tag made down at the pet store, I'm just gonna have to keep your neck marked up like that. Better get used to having the eyes of the masses crawling all over you, puppy."

"I can't take it, Lady Sparrow!" he broke. "It's so embarrassing, I look like such a..."

Abby stopped his walking and turned his body to face her. She placed a finger on his sternum and backed him up against a towering tree overlooking the road.

"You look like a whore, because you are a whore," Lady Sparrow enlightened him seriously. "You're my whore, my cute subservient sex slave. Say it."

"I'm your whore, your cute subservient sex slave," Drew repeated quickly.

"Do you enjoy being my slave?"

"Yes Lady Sparrow."

"Are you proud to be my slave?"

"Yes Lady Sparrow."

"Then your ungrateful ass oughta be thanking me for giving you such pretty marks. You should be God damn overjoyed that I've deemed you worthy of bearing the signs of my usage."

"You're right Lady Sparrow, thank you, I should be grateful and I am grateful! I won't complain anymore, no more complaining."

"No, I know you will. You're gonna continue to bitch and moan about your bruises, lamenting about how your disgusting, shameful secret is hanging out in the open for all to see."

Lady Sparrow leaned in and placed her hand against Drew's stomach. Slowly, it slid down past his belt and threatened to make use of her favorite toy. He tensed up at the thought, but couldn't bring himself to resist her advances. The cock belonged to her, after all; it was hardening for her as she lazily traced its outline.

"But you're a bad liar, sweetheart. That taboo shit really gets you off, I've seen it before. I've watched you put on shows for me, looking so cute and happy as you allow your desires to take you over. You're a whore for the attention, you're desperate to be called out for what you are. I used to say it was deep down in your heart, but now it's bubbling and bubbling up to the surface, isn't it?"

Drew could shake his head, but his eyes were trapped downward at the sight of Lady Sparrow's fingers teasing at the buckle, button, and zipper that contained him. There was no way she would expose him in such a public place. The risk was far too great for either of them. She was bluffing. She had to be.

"You should be ashamed, freak," she told him. "You should be mortified to be walking around looking like a skank piece of trash plucked right out of the gutter. But you're not ashamed. You're proud of it. You're embracing it. You may act like you're oh so fucking embarrassed, but I know you're just loving this shit right now."

Her hand invaded him. Bare flesh met with bare flesh, and Lady Sparrow cooed happily at the stiffness of it. Drew gasped and grasped her wrist, but made no attempts to pull her hand out of his clothes.

"You don't want to blend in with the dull masses anymore. You want me to take the power of secrecy away from you, same way I take every other power from you. You want everyone to know how twisted little Drew Lawson really is. You want the collar. You want the tag. You wanna be my bitch boy, and you're rock fucking hard at the thought of me forcing you to admit it to world. So be embarrassed, complain about how I make you look like a whore. We both know how you really feel."

"Lady Sparrow!" the pet cried, trying to keep his voice under control.

"What are you gonna do? Stop me? You think you have any right to tell me where and when I use my toys?" she interrogated.

"What if... ah... what if someone sees?" he asked.

"I think I just felt you throb for that. I bet you'd cum in your pants right now if someone saw you like this."

"Oh God okay, you're right about me! I don't wanna hide it, I love the embarrassment, it turns me on! I'm a twisted... ah! Twisted pu-puppy!"

"Say that one again."

"I'm... Lady Sparrow's twisted puppy!"

She laughed in his pained face and yanked her hand away from him. The display of her strength and his weakness made him crumble against the tree while Lady Sparrow wiped her palm clean against his dirty shirt.

"Twisted puppy," she repeated, bewildered. "Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you? Like seriously, the depths of your weird little kinks are truly concerning to me."

"Lady Sparrow..." Drew mumbled, the tremble in his voice matching the one rattling through his body.

"What more do you want?" she asked curtly.

He told her, "the collar. The tag."

She scoffed sardonically, but still she reached out to caress his cheek. It warmed her heart when she had him in the palm of her hand like this.

"We'll see if you can earn it, puppy."

He craned his neck and kissed the hand of his owner. The energy to fight against his instincts had left him, and he permitted them to dictate his behavior once more. Drew sunk back into his mind; the unthinking, obedient pet was all that remained. Lady Sparrow probed his dazed eyes for consciousness and, finding none, grinned at her own victory.