“Still, he’s done as bad or worse to plenty of other girls and you don’t see them losing their shit over it.”
“That’s just it—I could hate him for what happened to me, but it’s not that. It’s so much bigger than that. He has that power, and all he’s done with it is take from people and use people and hurt people. That’s despicable. But worse—the real reason I loathe him—is that he’ll never know it. Nobody will ever hold him to account. He may live his entire life without ever feeling the consequences of what he’s done to us. What he’s still doing to us.” Her nostrils flared angrily.
“So just tell him you didn’t like it,” Ashley said glibly.
“Right, just like I bet you challenge him all the time. Do you honestly expect me to believe you’re not just as pathetic around him as I am? Seriously. Imagine DJ spitting right in your face. Slapping you. Now you wanna tell me you’d stand up to him? Of course not. You’d apologize and meekly hope he didn’t just keep going.”
Ashley did imagine it; the girl had a point. Some things just weren’t done. “Still, I wouldn’t go throwing myself at him, begging for more. I could at least ignore him and hope he went away.” She almost suggested avoiding him, but that definitely crossed the line of rudeness.
“Well then why are you with him? If you know he can and will use you, and use other girls. What’s your angle?”
“I… like him,” Ashley said. It didn’t even sound convincing to her own ears, and Emily’s scoff showed she was no sucker either.
“The hell you do. You’re working some angle or another, I know it. What, you think if he falls for you that you can use him back? Tame the beast, make him your pet, is that it?”
Ashley scowled. She didn’t like how this conversation had turned around on her—or how spot-on Emily’s guesswork was. “Hey now, watch it bitch.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? God, you don’t even make it hard. You think he’s really going to be your dutiful little boyfriend? That you’re so damn special that he’ll stay with you, that he won’t throw your fat ass to the curb the minute he’s bored by you?”
“Shut up,” Ashley said angrily.
“Aw, is your little power trip not going like you planned? Pissed off that DJ gets a slave girl and you don’t—or are you pissed that you basically are his slave girl, just as much as I am?”
“It’s not like that!” Ashley insisted.
“Oh no? Well let’s go down to his room, shall we? You can dump him to his face. Or hey, criticize him. Pick something you don’t like about him, and say it to his face. What’s that, you can’t? That’s because you’re his little fuck puppet the same as me!”
“SHUT UP!” Ashley leapt to her feet as Emily did the same. She threw herself at the smaller girl, intending to tackle her to the floor, but she was scary fast and dodged out of the way. Ashley whirled around and renewed her attack with a swing at her stomach that staggered the smaller girl backwards, then Ashley grabbed her from behind. Emily, however, planted a heel of her shoe on Ashley’s shin and raked downwards painfully, making her release her grip.
The scuffle only lasted a minute or so, but it was quite a battle. Ashley hadn’t figured the smaller girl would give her so much trouble, but she was scrappy and agile. Worse, she was just plain crazy—Ashley soon realized that the girl was trying to gouge her eyes, rip her hair out by the roots, and otherwise do serious damage. Soon she was defending herself as desperately as she’d initially attacked.
When Emily’s slender but steel-strong hands gripped her throat, Ashley actually wondered if this fucking nut job was going to straight-up murder her. The wild look in her eyes certainly said she might. Ashley’s vision was going dim as she feebly tried to pry the girl’s grip loose, and just before she blacked out, she finally had an idea.
Forcing a final desperate bit of air out of her windpipe, she managed to form words. “I… have… more… questions,” she wheezed.
At first, it seemed like it wasn’t going to matter, and that Emily was just going to choke her unconscious—or worse. But then, the girl relented, releasing her grip and slumping over onto the bed.
They both took their time catching their breath. Ashley sucked the sweet oxygen into her lungs as fast as she could as her the spots dancing in her vision faded. Nervously, she made her way back to her chair, and Emily returned to her perch at the foot of her bed.
“You said you had questions,” Emily said in a deadpan voice.
“Why did that stop you from… fighting me?” She’d nearly said “killing me,” but she wasn’t ready to admit the totality of her defeat yet.
“DJ told me to answer all your questions. I obey.”
“You never did say why, though. In fact, you said you hated him. It still doesn’t make any sense.”
“I do hate him—don’t you get it? Hating DJ is the worst feeling in the world. Worse than when my dog died. Worse than being hated by my own parents. Those things don’t even compare. It makes me realize in the depths of my being that I am a wretched, disgusting person for feeling the way I do against all common decency.
“So I need to prove to myself I can be good. Redeem myself. Save my soul. The only way I know to do that, the only thing that makes the revulsion go away, is by pleasing him. I’m showing myself that no matter how much I despise him, I can still do the decent thing.”
Ashley listened with fascination to the girl’s twisted explanation. “But why not just… play along? Why take it so far?”
Emily gave her a condescending look. “Because I’m not a selfish bitch who only thinks in terms of the practical. This is the right thing to do. Even if it’s the hard thing to do. If I pretended to love him he’d see through me—I can’t act as well as you can, I guess. But I can serve him, because it’s sincere.”
“Is there a line, though? Like, you give him two days a week, or vaginal but not anal or something?”
“No lines. Until I can make the hatred go away, I deserve to suffer for feeling the way I do. My feelings don’t even matter, really—all that matters is that he be pleased with me.”
“Damn. You’re fucked up.”
Emily sighed. “I know.”
Ashley stood up and walked to the door warily, but Emily didn’t stir. “So you really… belong to him? There’s nothing you wouldn’t obey him on? Like if he texted you to smile but he’d never know if you didn’t, you wouldn’t do it, right?”
“Of course I would do it. I obey. It’s what he wants. He needs to have it. I’d do anything for him.” She looked up at where Ashley was backing towards the door. “I’d kill for him.”
Ashley went a little pale, and without another word, fled the room.
It was the next morning before DJ contacted Emily again. Part of her was relieved at the respite, just as part of her swelled with self-loathing to acknowledge the burden of her servility. She almost slept through his text, but she’d had to foresight to turn her phone’s volume up all the way and use a foghorn for his notification tone. She’d nearly wet herself in fright as the thing went off right next to her head, but still, at least she hadn’t been derelict of duty.
He’d told her to get ready for the day before coming down, so Emily took the time to shower and primp and put on a shoulderless purple sun dress that would certainly be too cold for the autumn weather. It did, however, show off her legs and chest nicely, and would allow ease of access in case DJ wanted the obvious. She hoped he didn’t, then then hated herself for hoping.
She was knocking at his door not half an hour after his text, her now well-practiced servile expression on her face. She’d studied it in a mirror—chin tilted downwards to show humility, eyes looking up to show attentiveness, lips twisted up just so in order to express her eagerness to obey without implying she was genuinely happy for her own sake.