Snippet 1He woke to a body already become nothing more than a vessel for holding pain and the slow awareness that, having thus redefined him, she would proceed to lovingly fill him beyond capacity until he cracked and broke, she looking on mesmerised as the fissures appeared.
She turned him into a toy, strings on his hands and feet, his body imbued with life only in reaction to her manipulations, made to act and feel by her choice rather than his own. Her face, still a child's face, lit up in dark fascination, letting him know he was surely the best toy she'd ever had. It became a battle to hold onto what shred of power he could, to not break down, to not let her hear him scream, to not try beg or cajole when she loosed the gag.
(the game goes like this: she pulls his strings, he moans into the saturated wad locked behind his teeth, her lips part and her eyes unfocus as she stares into his face to absorb the reaction he can't hide)
She beat him bloody, disappointed when he lapsed unconscious. Patience fled the first time she saw the reaction she could get in his face when she inflicted pain and then it was like an addiction, she was compelled to place more purpling tattoos the shape of her knuckles upon his pale skin. The sight of agony on that expressive face and the memory of how goddamn lousy he was at handling it pushed her over the edge, turned the fun game she'd planned while waiting for Angel to get up off his ass and get round to killing her into something else.
She wanted to see every stretch and contortion that mouth was capable of, catalogue the timbre of his moans and screams. Wanted to wrench his soul up to the surface and study it to find and show him the cracks that proved, for all his tight-assed superiority, he wasn't better than her.
And to hurt him like hell. Yeah, she wanted that too.