“You know what?” I asked rhetorically. “I’m feeling better now.”

And I really was; it seemed like that fit had worked off the last of my frustrations. With a clearer head, I considered Miranda, still trapped in my grip.

Carefully, I began to untangle her from my arms, still keeping my grip in place. “I think we’re about done here. I proved my point, I vented. I’m about ready to go to bed…”

I trailed off as I considered Miranda, neck and lower back in one hand, her head covered by my fingers, and ass resting in the palm of the other. She was free to move, for the most part, but either what I had done to her in my fit, or the way I was holding her head, had stopped her from doing anything more than tremble slightly in my grasp.

“But we need one last talk before then.” I finished.

She flinched at that, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret her fear.

“I want to make something clear, MIranda. This, what happened here, isn’t going to be your normal standard of behavior. You angered me, and I punished you, and that got mixed with my general… frustrations with how things are going.”

Gently, I brushed at her hair with my thumb, but she only shook again at my touch.

“As a pet, I’m taking away choices from you, yes. I’ll use you, of course. At the same time, though, is with less focus on letting you do things yourself, I can do more for you. Take care of you, spoil you, even.”

Quietly, I lowered my head and exhaled onto her exposed skin. She shuddered and arched in my hands, and I realized that her nipples were hard, that they had been the entire time.

“We both know, Miranda, that there’s more I could have been doing for you, to you, from the start. But I didn’t, because I was waiting for you. Waiting for you to want them…”

I exhaled again, slowly, from the tips of her breasts down to her legs, and she moaned almost inaudibly.

“Or maybe you were just too afraid to ask.” I continued. “Maybe because you were afraid of me, maybe you were afraid of giving up control to me, voluntarily, when you already have so little, and worried about not getting it back. I’m not going to go beyond this, tonight, but I want you to think about something: you being a pet? This is a temporary situation. In a week or two, maybe, I’d be willing to go back to the way things were before, give things another shot. Not force you to fight for things, allow you choices in being picked up or not, and so on. But.”

I stopped, and this time dropped the smallest bit of spit I could onto her breasts, before I breathed on them once more. This time, she moaned louder, lewder, even as she visibly fought against the impulse.

“Aren’t you even just a little bit curious?” I asked, whispered really, into her ear.

“What?” She said, so startled by my question that she responded on instinct.

“Aren’t you even just a little bit curious how it would feel?” I had leaned in even more as I spoke, whispering so quietly it barely shook her hair even with how close I was now.

“To give into me, to surrender? You’re fighting me so much, Miranda. Aren’t you tired? Aren’t you tired of fighting so hard to act like something your not? Doesn’t it sound nice to just… close your eyes, and let me take care of everything for you? To protect you from the world? To spoil you? Don’t you want to all the pleasures you haven’t been allowing yourself to indulge in, all this time? I know you’re afraid of me… but in your heart of hearts, did you ever think I’d really mistreat you?”

I let her consider it for a moment, watched her tremble, her head shaking back and forth in frantic denial under my grip, before I moved in for the kill.

“You’re not stupid, Miranda. I’m sure you could act like a well behaved, if down on her luck, person, and in that week or so we could try it all again. We can pretend that you aren’t a squeaking little thing that I keep in my house, if you wanted. But that’s what I want you to think about.”

I moved so my mouth was less than an inch from the tiny, delicate construction of her ear, and when I spoke I could only barely hear my own words.

“Will you want to go back to that?”

I wanted to keep going, to push harder, but I had done that plenty today. It was better, now, for her to think about what I said on her own. Instead, I got up gently, even as I lowered my hand down her back so she could see again.

“Don’t worry, Miranda.” I said reassuringly as she startled again at my movement. “I’m just taking you to the bathroom. I imagine you want to clean up?”

After a second she nodded, almost reluctantly, and I smiled warmly.

“I thought so. I’ll just let you take care of yourself now, alright? We can talk more in the morning.”

I didn’t get much of a response from her, but by the time we reached the bathroom and I flicked the lights on, her gaze had gone from terror filled to bewildered and wary. Gently, I lowered her to the tiled floor, and walked away without another word.

When I returned to the table, I found Sydney, obediently staying where she was told and kneeling in the remains of the ice cream. I nodded in approval before picking the entire bowl up and carrying it into the kitchen, noting absently how she fell onto her side in the process, further coating her body in the dessert.

Setting it on a counter for a moment, I started the water to warm in the sink before plucking the Min from where she lay. Absently, I considered her as I rinsed out the worst from the bowl, placing it into the dishwasher.

“You’re good at listening.” I told her, while my free hand checked the water temperature.

Sydney flinched, slightly, before realizing that it was a compliment.

“Thank you, Master.” She said softly.

“You’d do well to keep at it; keep your head down and do what you’re told.” I advised, turning my full attention to her.

“You may have noticed that things are a bit unstable here at the moment. Play your cards right, Sydney, and you might find yourself in a much better place than where you started. Do you understand me?”

She nodded hesitantly. “I understand, Master.”

I smiled and lowered the pressure. “Good girl. Now hold your breath.”

I waited a beat, then brought her into the flow of water, allowing it to rinse the worst of the stains from her before pulling her out.

I looked her over briefly, checking for any areas that were still glaring dirty, before stopping and examining her again, slowly. It was something I had known before, of course, but dripping in water, with the way her gasping breaths jiggled her chest, I was forced to admit…

“Damn,” I said feelingly. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

I had been planning to clean her off just enough to keep the house from being a mess, but instead I found myself licking my lips as I trailied a finger up her leg.

Miranda, I knew, would have jerked away from my touch, at least if she had seen it coming. Sydney, however, moved into it, and without a shred of reluctance.

There was fear in her eyes, of course, but there had always been fear in her, and it didn’t stop the way she moved to stay in contact with me, even as my finger pulled away, or the silent gasp that I saw more than heard.

“You’re ready to be a good pet, aren’t you?” I stated more than asked, returning the finger to circle the small of her back, and she shuddered in my hand.

“Y-yes, Master,” Sydney gasped. “Please, Master. Whatever you want. Wha-whatever you want, Master, I’ll be good. I’ll be yours.”

I wasn’t sure if she was overacting, or if Miranda was just that good at hiding how much she felt at my touch, but either way this responsiveness was a nice change of pace. Slowly, I dragged my fingertip up her back, gently applying pressure between her shoulder blades for an instant, before I moved it to her neck, and the collar she still wore on it.

Before she could react, it released and fell into my hand, and Sydney gave a sound of relief that had to be as much physical as it was psychological; they weren’t actually meant to be worn all the time, after all, just as a tool for identification when leaving the home. There was a red ring around her throat already where it had begun to chafe.

I locked the ends together and tossed it lightly in my palm a few times, before losing interest and placing the collar into my pocket.

One of my many preparations for Miranda included a bottle of Min-friendly body wash at the sink for just such an occasion. There was a strange irony to the fact I was doing this for someone else, but I had reached at point where I didn’t care: here, at least, a woman lay in my hand, naked, and if she was not eager than she was still willing. Sydney looked up at me with wide eyes, legs spread and almost seeming to pose in my grasp as I squirted out a dab of soap on my index finger.

“My good pet.” I commanded.

“Yours.” she begged.

Sensitivity or not, there was no way she wanted me, the man who had nearly ripped her arm off not so long ago, in any genuine fashion. She still flinched every time she saw me, cringed at my every move. Even if she was into that kind of treatment, it wouldn’t explain such a quick turnaround.

This was clearly nothing more than a desperate attempt to protect herself with only asset she had available to her, to try and buy herself favorable treatment with her body.

But that was the thing about Mins, wasn’t it? The feelings didn’t have to be real, just the obedience. Devotion would come in time, after all, with Stockholm Syndrome and Giant’s Allure, and even if it didn’t, even if it continued to be nothing more than an act…

What did it matter? I didn’t care about her feelings, I just wanted her body and her willingness. There was no way for her to betray me, or harm me, or steal from me, like a traditional gold digger could; I owned her. What else could Sydney do but continue to play along, if only for her own safety?

I grinned the shark’s grin, and for a moment she froze, facade breaking at what she saw in it.

“Mine.”

Once again, Sydney had made a choice without fully understanding the situation. Once again, I didn’t care to correct her mistake.

As I rubbed my fingers and thumb together, spreading out the soap, her expression return to ‘lustful’, and she cooed appreciative as I began to slowly massage it onto her stomach, twisting and turning in my hand with every indication of delight. Still, the act grated on me, and before too long I cut in.

“Enough.” I told her finally. She stared at me with genuine confusion, so I elaborated. “The act. I know you’re putting on a show, and I-”

“No!” Sydney yelled in sudden terror. Then she winced as she realized she had interrupted me, before she kept protesting anyways. “Master! I, I wouldn’t dare to… I mean, I…”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. Oh, physically you may be enjoying it to some extent…”

I ran my finger over the stiffened tips of her breasts, before dragging it between her legs, ignoring the way she yelped and squirmed at my suddenly rough treatment. Pinching the liquid now coating it between my fingers, I showed Sydney how it stuck to my skin as she blushed violently.

“And that’s good and all, but you make it sound like you’re going to cum, here and now, and we haven’t even started the heavy petting. I know you think I’m a madman, but do me the common courtesy to stop pretending I’m stupid as well. I’m using you for my own reasons, you’re letting me use you for yours. I’m not here to make you feel good, Sydney, I’m here to get my own pleasure from using you.”

Pushing my finger onto her mouth, I held it there until she gave in to my unspoken demand and began to lap at her own fluids meekly. As I felt the tiny little muscle’s touch against my fingertip, I smiled.

“Just like that. Good girl. You’re nothing more than my toy, Sydney, and you’ll never be anything more than that. Don’t act otherwise. Don’t get airs about your own importance. You can call me Master all you want, and fawn over my every word, begging for attention you’re too afraid to enjoy; we both know you’ll mean it soon enough, even if it’s just an act at the moment. But there’s no point in you trying to fluff up my ego. You can have as dramatic an ‘orgasm’ as you want, Sydney, and you’ll still be in the exact same place as you’d be if you didn’t go through the bother: here. Being held in my hands, being touched and toyed with as I please, and unable to do anything about it.”

I tightened my grip on her slightly, and brought my other finger up, rubbing it over her face, coating her face in her own drippings.

“And if you like it? If it makes you feel valued? Safe? Wanted? Good for you. If you feel violated? Used? Worthless? Too bad: that’s your problem, not mine. Your opinions, Sydney, are just as worthless as your attempts to resist me. Your only value lies in your body, and your ability to do as you are told. Clear?”

At some point during all this her flush had grown and spread until her shoulders and the tops of her breasts were all scarlet red. Sydney looked at me, panting slightly, face still smeared with her own lubricant, and let out a breathy sigh that sounded more genuine than every sound she’d made thus far.

“Of course, Master.”

As an interesting note, I’ll admit I took the ‘aren’t you even just a little bit curious’ line from a dark comedy video I found on youtube, and I kind of wrote this to the classic Lavender Town theme.

As one of those lore-y side notes, Giant’s Allure isn’t something I think will be naturally explained, so I’ll just spell it out. There’s studies out there that say that taller people get paid X amount more than people of average height, right? Giant’s Allure refers to something past that, past the point where the pay gap stops (I… think that’s a thing? If you’re tall enough that stops being a thing? Don’t quote me obviously), to where one person is so much larger than the other that it humbles the smaller person, makes them meek and subordinate.

It’s a theoretically sweet spot, basically, about how big someone has to be to command someone smaller, as well as a theory to help explain how oddly obedient Mins are to normal sized people, and how easy they seem to fall in love/worship to them, though there’s significant academic conflict if there’s just something biologically different in them, or maybe both. Because of her ‘great’ size, BTW, Sydney is actually of some non-insignificant interest to those who want to try and test to find that point. They hope they can place her in front of a child and find a point where the magic obedience charisma stops working, though for obvious reasons there’s so many other things happening that it never goes anywhere.

“Up and at 'em, ladies.” I said cheerfully as I swung the Min House open.

They had been sitting on the fabric pile I had left them originally, probably for lack of anything better to do, but as I approached they assumed their attention positions, as obedient as ever. Hilariously, me opening the house jostled them out of place, sending them falling back onto their little nest, but they recovered in admirable speed and returned to proper form.

“Miranda and I discussed a few things, and the good news is your situation is going to improve.” I explained. “You’re actually still on house arrest for awhile, but we’re going to be having a little fun and your attendance is required. I’ll set you back up with everything afterwards.”

I held out my hand for them but while they approached amicably enough, they hesitated as they grew closer, staring up at me with increasingly concerned faces. I probably would have been annoyed at that normally, but I was so excited for what was coming next that I merely smiled wider.

“Did I mention this is going to be your last chance for decent food until the next round of negotiations? Because you two are on Min Chow for now as well.”

It was amazing, I thought idly as Amber and Mia all but flew into my palm, just how effective the proper motivation could be.

“Excellent choice.” I murmured, before closing my hand around them.

I all but whistled as I walked back to the table, and it was clear my good mood was putting everyone on edge.

“…Ian?” Miranda asked warily. “What’s going on?”

I had left her and Sydney there once we had concluded our game, struck by a sudden inspiration that I was dying to see through. I hadn’t told them what was about to happen, but I had realized it would be easier if I didn’t give her time to stress over it, and maybe work herself up to try to flee and hide somewhere in the house. It wouldn’t save her from me, of course, but I didn’t want to deal with the hassle, either.

Better not to give her a warning. Or a choice.

“We’re having a little celebration, Miranda.” I answered. “I like to think we’ve made some progress just now, and I’d like to treat that with the importance it deserves.”

She flinched when I swung my hand to her, visibly stopping herself from retreating, and the sight was a little sting of irritation in my good mood. Instead of letting her pick up her friends, as I had planned, I lightly tossed them at her without any warning.

As she fumbled to catch them, I strode off into the kitchen, grabbing a large mixing bowl and setting it on the counter. As I walked to the freezer I found myself humming cheerfully as my attitude improved, pulling out the chocolate ice cream and scooping out a decent serving into the bowl before returning the carton to the fridge.

By the time I returned to the table with the largely empty bowl I found the women bunched together near the center, as they often did when they found my actions alarming. It was adorable how they acted like that would protect them at all, but it probably helped calm their nerves if nothing else, so I refrained from laughing and simply sat at my usual spot, with the bowl placed before me.

“Amber.” I began. She jolted at the sound of her name. “Mia. Miranda.”

I tapped the space in front of me, next to the bowl, with a finger. “All of you come here.”

There was a moment of confusion where they all stared at each other, before all eyes turned to the one member of their number I had excluded, who looked unsure if she should be happy or terrified at being the odd one out. Thankfully, they started moving before I had to repeat myself, and soon enough I had three little women lined up in front of me, staring up at my face with worried eyes.

Then, before any of them could react, my left hand lashed out and seized Miranda. Palm on her chest, and fingers gripping her shoulders, I easily forced her down onto the table top, and a single finger tip moved to cover her mouth, and any sounds she could have made. The smaller Mins screamed at my sudden movements, but before they do anything else my right hand pushed the bowl behind them. They jumped and spun to look at it, and were so panicked they didn’t see me calmly lay my arm on the other side of the bowl, trapping them in place.

“You know, I’d like to thank you two.” I said casually. “The more time passes, the more sure I am that Miranda would have been even more unreasonable without your presence, and the constant guilt and fear for your lives.”

What I could see of their tiny faces paled and Miranda’s thrashing grew suddenly frantic under my grip.

“And in general I’d like to think I’ve treated you well, all things considered. But…” I trailed off for a moment as I tried to find the words, and I tapped a finger absently on Miranda’s breast.

“I’ve been using you, successfully I might add, as hostages, but as I rely on that more and more her she’s going to be to rebel unless I prove that I’m serious and I don’t think I’ve actually done anything to you, beyond locking you in your House. Certainly nothing where she could see it. So, under the circumstances, I’ve decided that Miranda needs a reminder that I am, in fact, absolutely not bluffing when I start pushing things farther. Not about you, not about her, not about anything. In the same vein, I owe her an indignity, and really, I just want to have a bit of fun. So we’re going to have a little party to celebrate the fact that you’re all my hostages and that you should all be terrified about it, and as a paper thin excuse for me to play with you all, to kind of cover all these points all at once.”

Taking my free hand, I set it in front of them, fingers spread wide so that each of them stood in the empty space between two fingers. There was a span of time there, brief as it was, that they could have tried to run, or hide, or really do anything to resist me. Honestly, I had expected them to. Instead, they merely stared up at me with resignation on their faces.

Once I was satisfied with how things were lined up, carefully I closed my hand and trapped them in between my fingers.

Lifting them into the air, I turned my hand and looked at it, and my two prisoners, like a woman admiring her rings. They hung there, limp and unmoving, but seemed to be unhurt, just disheartened.

“This isn’t about you, you’re just the most convenient tool at hand for my needs. If it makes you feel better, I’m not trying to make you miserable just for fun, I’m trying to make Miranda miserable for fun. Well, that probably doesn’t help. Either way…” I trailed off and shrugged. “Sorry about all this.”

Then I dropped them into the ice cream.

I felt Miranda’s scream under my fingertip, and pressed down lightly in response.

“Don’t be such a drama queen, they’re fine. It’s not like they’re going to be hurt by such a soft landing.”

I laughed and adjusted my grip, freeing her mouth as I lifted her, thrashing, into the air.

“Besides, Miranda, you really should be worrying more about yourself. How easily you’ve forgotten that this is about humiliating you.”

And just like that, she froze.

“What?” She asked in a quiet voice, but I ignored her for the moment to look in the bowl instead.

When I had dropped them, Amber and Mia had sunk pretty deeply into the ice cream, but it seemed by now they had managed to free themselves and get back on their feet. Shivering slightly from the cold, huddling together for warmth, and covered in brown splotches, but otherwise unharmed by my antics.

Good.

Admittedly, this all was a bit of calculated risk; ice cream itself was harmless, of course, but for all intents and purposes they were standing in a snow field while naked. For now they were fine, but if I left in there too long it could be hazardous for their health. Mins are delicate creatures, after all, and while I was acting careless with them, I had no intention to let them actually be injured.

“You know, I’ve been craving some ice cream, and would you look at this, Miranda! All of this, just for me!”

I paused. “Well, for all of us, technically, but somehow I think I’ll be coming out of this with the lion’s share, don’t you? Anyways, I have ice cream, I have a bowl…”

I trailed off as I made a show of looking around the table. “But wait! What’s this? I don’t have a spoon! How tragic!”

Sighing in exaggerated regret, I turned my head, staring at the woman in my hand meaningfully. “If only I had something else I could use…”

It didn’t take Miranda long to get the message.

“No…” She said in horror. “No, Ian, you wouldn’t, you couldn’t! How would that even work?!”

“I don’t know,” I admitted cheerfully, “But you know what? I’m excited to find out!”

That was a bit of a white lie, if I was being perfectly honest. I had put some thought into all of this before hand, after all. I may not know for sure, but I had a few theories how to make it work.

I was milking all of this to for drama, yes, to inspire fear in the Mins lost in the bowl and to Miranda trapped in my hand, but it also let the ice cream warm and melt, become easier to scoop, as well as limit how long I could play this out before it melted completely and ended the game.

Moreover, I had been very particular when I had picked Miranda up, pinning her arms with my thumb and fingers while resting her back against my palm, which left her lower half protruding from my hand. It was a somewhat awkward way to hold her, but I had my reasons: You see, even softened, the ice cream would probably resist a Min’s body to some extent, and while I could easily force it, that could possible hurt Miranda. Most of their bodies were soft and delicate, but if I had to name the strongest part of a Min’s body, one that could cut into ice cream the easiest… it would be the legs.

“I"ve got an idea, though. Let’s start with this: open your legs, Miranda.”

“What?!” She screeched. “Ian, I-”

“Oh well. I guess I’ll have to handle it myself.”

I cut her off before she could say anything else. I hadn’t expected her to agree, which was half the reason we were doing all this in the first place, but more than that I didn’t want her to agree. Now, of all times, I didn’t want her cheerful and compliant; I wanted her to struggle, to fight against me, to kick her legs and do her best to dig her tiny little teeth into my skin.

I wanted her to do all of that… and have it serve absolutely no purpose other than to make her tired. I had already decided that today I was going to drive into her just how pathetic and helpless she truly was.

Ignoring her continued protests, I grabbed her legs with my free hand and easily forced them open as I lowered Miranda’s body into the bowl. The others had made their way out of ice cream, mostly, and were at one of the edges of the bowl, trying frantically to climb out, though they froze in place at my movements. I pretended not to see them as I aimed for the top of the ice cream mountain.

Lowering Miranda just below where I planned to take my first ‘spoonful’, I closed her legs around the area, cutting through it and leaving a lump balanced on her thighs. Lifting her to head height, I bent Miranda’s legs forward so that lump fell onto her stomach, and it was only then that I leaned in to eat.

If I was doing all this just to eat ice cream, honestly this whole system would have been far better off replaced by a simple spoon. It was messy, it was inefficient. It took two hands, and a lot more work than it probably should have taken, all for the relatively simple task of getting ice cream from the bowl to my mouth.

Thankfully, though, the ice cream itself was basically the last thing on my mind. Everyone here knew that the ice cream was just a fig leaf over my real intentions, to play with Miranda’s body and humiliate her, and on that metric, this was a stunning success.

Even now, she fought against me, her toned legs struggling frantically against my fingers, her high pitched, desperate cries, the way her entire body jerked each time my grip on her arms shifted even minutely.

Bliss, I thought to myself, as I ran my tongue down the flat plane of her stomach, as each panicked breath pushed it harder against my taste buds for a brief second. Truly, this is bliss.

Ignoring the mess I was making of my own face, I chased the melted ice cream past Miranda’s stomach, lapping her breasts, before heading down to her legs. Here I let go of them, allowing her to kick each of them freely, until I took first one, then the other, into my mouth. Gently biting to hold each in place, I move up from the ankles, past the knees, only to stop half way up her thighs.

And for a moment, the room seemed to freeze as I turned her body to face me, bottom first. We both knew what was about to happen. Miranda tried to stop me, crossing her legs and holding them tight against her body, but it did as much to stop me as the look of terror on her face, or her desperate cries for me to stop, to wait, to talk about this.

Nothing, in other words. It did nothing to stop me.

It was the work of an instant for the tip of my tongue to slither between her legs, to flex and force them open, and to move in on the prize.

In many ways, this was all very similar to what happened after the pizza not too long ago. We never reached this point then, but if I had I would taken my time, tempted and teased her every step of the way. Back then, my biggest priority was to have Miranda enjoy the experience as much, if not more, than I did.

I didn’t want Miranda to remember this experience with a smile. I didn’t want her to think of this as a happy moment. I wanted her to remember it and feel violated.

So this time, instead of waiting, I dug in without hesitation.

At her size, there was only so far I could actually ‘dig in’ of course, nothing more than the very tip of my tongue, but as I did, Miranda jerked so hard in my hands that I worried briefly for her back, making a sound of hungry, desperate pleasure that only belonged in cheap porn. Her legs, which had been rather ineffectively kicking at me before now, suddenly switched to trying to keep my head in place, and at the core of her, I felt tiny, tiny little muscles try and fail to hold my tongue as it turned and twisted within her.

I gave it another second before withdrawing, to another guttural cry, and instead of saying anything I smacked my lips thoughtfully and lowered her back into the bowl.

This time I had to straighten out her limp legs, but the actual experience made getting my next ‘scoop’ easier than the first had been.

I lifted her to my face and observed her for a moment, the way she panted and the flush on her face. As she opened her mouth, I tilted her, steeper this time, so that the lump of ice cream rolled until it stopped flat against her breasts, and I took it all, breasts and dessert alike, into my mouth at once.

The noises Miranda made this time, as I played with her breasts, were short and desperate. I bounced them on my tongue, I pressed them back against her body and hummed happily to myself at the begging natures of the sounds Miranda made in response, before removing them from my mouth with a wet sounding pop as I went down for my third bite.

It was only then that I noticed that the other two were in trouble. It had probably been several minutes at this point, and Amber and Mia were visibly slowing down from the cold. Worse yet, they were trapped before one of the melting flows that came from the main pile of confection, and it wouldn’t be long before they were buried in it.

The real irony of it all though, is that while I noticed, Miranda didn’t. She didn’t fight me I lowered her back into the bowl, and she scissored me some of the now rapidly melting ice cream almost without my hand even moving, never noticing that her friends were trapped inside the blob now resting on her body. It was only as I lifted her to my mouth, choosing to eat directly off her legs this time, that she startled, head jolting down suddenly as she presumably felt something move against her skin.

Then I slurped the lump, passengers and all, into my mouth.

“Ian?”

Miranda had stopped talking after the first scoop, so it was honestly a bit surprising to hear her voice again so fast. I had thought it would have taken her longer to catch her breath.

“Ian, where are they?”

Carefully, I pressed the two wiggling shapes in my mouth against my cheek with my tongue as swallowed down some of the mixed spit and ice cream slurry.

“Where are they, Ian?! Where are Amber and Mia?!”

Releasing them, I let the now limp forms settle onto my tongue and felt a brief urge to keep moving them around, tasting them, toying with them. Instead, I answered Miranda, opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue just enough for her to see.

She gasped.

I couldn’t see how they looked, of course, but I could imagine. While they weren’t buried in ice cream any more, between what was left of it and my saliva, I doubted they could move much, and though the brief stint in my mouth had likely warmed them enough to get them out of the danger zone, I could still feel the two of them shivering.

There was a scream I ignored as I brought them back into my mouth, trying to suck the worst of the mess off of them. A moment of an almost absent adjustment brought some quiet as I covered Miranda’s mouth again, and brought my newly freed hand to my face as I spat out my two prisoners.

Licking my lips, I brought them up to eye level to examine them closer. They were soaked, of course, hair clinging to their faces and bodies and gasping for breath, but they seemed to have come out of the experience intact. Neither of them could stand, though; Amber tried, briefly, to raise her arm, but the sheer weight and stickiness of my drool seemed to overwhelm her and she gave up to lay back helplessly against my palm.

I considered pushing a little further, maybe saying a line about how good they tasted, but I think I done enough at this point. I gave them a moment before bringing Miranda up enough to see their pathetic state, then closed my hand around the pair.

They wouldn’t like it, but the warmth of my hand would probably do more to help them shake off the effect of the cold than a hot shower would.

I gave it a minute or two before I spoke up.

“Sydney.”

From the corner she had tried to hide herself in, my newest Min straightened up.

“Come here and keep an eye on Miranda for me, I’ll be back soon enough. Don’t let her do anything stupid, hold her down if you have to.”

She made a face at that, presumably at how rapidly things I had changed things up with what I wanted from her and what I would punish her for, but gamely walked towards me as I set Miranda down on the table.

Still with my hand closed, I got up and headed to the sink, briskly rinsing off my free hand and drying it on a towel before heading back to the Min House.

Quietly, I began to pick up each piece of furniture I had removed before and placed it in back into the house. It wasn’t the exact location I had taken them all from, but the end result was still a cleary livable home once more, instead of an empty space defined only by the walls. It was only then, once I was satisfied with the arrangement, that I opened up my hand on the sodden heap I was holding.

Compared to the last time I saw them, they seemed somewhat more energetic, but something inside Amber and Mia seemed broken by what they had experienced.

We regarded each other, and I felt compelled to break the silence.

“…I won’t say sorry. I used you just as I have always planned to, and I never made a secret that’s what you were for. But I will admit I went too far, and I do regret that.”

I gave them some time to speak up, but when they did nothing more than stare at me blankly, I kept talking.

“I put you in real danger, and I regret that. And even if it’s not for the reasons you would have wanted, that emotion is real. But, as a form of apology, I will tell you two a secret.”

I leaned in slightly, ignoring the way they cringed at my approach, and spoke in just over a whisper.

“Soon enough, I won’t need you two anymore.” A look of horror crossed their faces, and I rushed to correct myself. “Not for something like this, anyways.”

They relaxed, slightly, at that and I continued. “My main point, the threat, is made. I don’t think I’ll have to prove my willingness anymore, which means that as long as you are here, and alive, it stands with absolutely zero effort on my part. And I’ll admit, part of the problem I had just now is that I enjoyed playing with you too much to want to stop.”

I shrugged a bit and smirked. “Thankfully, there are other ways for me to get that kind of fun. More expendable ways than the two of you. For now, suffice to say that you two have well and truly earned your place here. I don’t expect to see either of you for the rest of the night. Or the morning, even.”

I gave them a moment to digest that, before settling them gently back into their home. “Take a bath, or a shower, and clean yourselves up. Get some rest, enjoy whatever food is left in there.”

I closed the House back up, locked it, and returned to the table to see Sydney standing over Miranda, looking visibly unsure if she should be doing something, or running full tilt in the opposite direction. I settled that matter for her by plucking her off the table top as I headed back to my chair.

Miranda meanwhile, was curled in on herself, arms hugging her knees and head bowed. Calmly, I dipped Sydney’s butt into the bowl and at her startled squeal Miranda straighten up to look at me.

I licked the sweet liquid off the squirming Sydney before I spoke up.

“They almost died in there, you know. It was collapsing on them. If I hadn’t pulled them out it would have buried them, and I don’t think they could have managed to dig their way out. Drowning in ice cream, huh? What a way to go.”

I was fully prepared to keep going, but apparently that was enough for Miranda to reach the breaking point.

“What was the point of this, Ian?!” She screamed, banging her fist against the wood. “Why are telling me this, why are you doing this to me?!”

My fist hit the table so hard that it shook.

“BECAUSE YOU NEEDED THIS TO HAPPEN!” I shouted back.

There was a pause. “What?” Miranda said weakly.

I leaned towards her, settling my hands on the table only to be thwarted by the Min I was still holding onto. I stared at Sydney blankly before dropping her into the bowl.

“Stay.” I told her firmly, before turning back into Miranda.

“I honestly wonder sometimes… do you even realize your situation? You’re afraid of me, yes, and I’ll admit I’ve encouraged that to some extent, but the way you act around me… it feels like you think I did this to you. That I walked up to you on the street, Min’d you, and took you home. I didn’t do this to you. You Min’d all by yourself. I didn’t abandon you at the Kennel. I didn’t leave you there, for months, without any contact. Your friends did. Your family did. Your boyfriend did. I have done nothing to you, Miranda, nothing that has happened to you is my fault.”

I slammed my fist down again. “Do you know what I did do, though? I rescued you. I treated you like a person. I gave you food, and clothes, and respect, when you had none, and you spat all over that because of the simple fact that I enjoyed all of this. Do you realize what you have, Miranda? You have nothing.”

I gestured angrily at the house. “All these things you enjoy? All of it, the clothes, the warmth, the shelter? All of it is mine. ‘Your’ clothes are ‘yours’ in the same way a Barbie owns whatever outfit a child puts on her. You own nothing. You deserve nothing, and I give you these things anyways, yet you treat my attentions as a threat?”

I shifted tacks. “How long would it have taken you, Miranda, to realize that your friends were missing?”

She flinched.

“How long would it have taken you to realize that they had died? And how about this: what if you had seen them, down in that bowl, Miranda? What would you have done?”

Silently, she began to cry. In response I reached out and pinned her down to the table.

“Nothing.” I snarled. “You would have done nothing, but begged and cried, because you are nothing, Miranda. You are a Min, just like the rest of them. You would have done all that and done nothing, changed nothing, and they would have died the same way they would have if you had never noticed them at all. You an animal too helpless to take care of herself, and one that the government is just guilty enough to refuse to put down.”

I held out my empty hand in front of her. “Image, for a moment, that the two of them were here, right now.”

I closed my hand, the same way I often did when I transported Mia and Amber, and began to squeeze.

“Stop me, Miranda.”

She cried harder.

“Stop me, Miranda, or else they die.”

I gave it a little longer, then opened my hand as if I was dropping something.

“Oops. I guess they’re dead now. That was a surprising amount of blood for how small they were, wasn’t it?”

I clenched my fist so hard that my knuckled popped.

“You have the gall to treat me as, what? Some unwanted thug trying to corner you on the streets, when I am the one that gives you everything.”

And just like that, I snapped.

Lunging forward, I grabbed her, and dragged her towards my body. Thoughtlessly, madly, I caught her, held her, seized whatever I touched, frantically changing my grip to hold down anything that moved to the soundtrack of her screams.

It wasn’t sexual. It wasn’t desire. It was some emotion I couldn’t name, a bizarre possessiveness that was almost closer to hunger than anything, a mad desire that emerged from an empty, endlessly wanting place in myself I hadn’t realized existed before this moment.

There was no thought to it, no logic. I simply wanted in a way that echoed to my core.

It lasted for… two minutes? Three? Maybe even four. I’m not sure, but when I came back to myself, I found Miranda squeezed tight against my chest, face down, locked in place by my crossed arms, while my hands held her butt and head in a firm grip. Between t hatand the way I had curled over her, almost no part of her was left uncovered by my body, like a snake coiling around its prey.

I realized suddenly, in a blinding moment of transcendent understanding, that if Miranda had been smaller, I may have simply dropped her into my mouth just to trap her more firmly, to bring her even closer to me.

I may have even swallowed.

I didn’t actually mean to stop here when I started, but I reached this point and it somehow seemed like a great place to stop to me?

You know, as I was writing this all out, I was reminded of something I had read a long time ago. It said that, while a dom acts like everything is easy and effortless to their subs, or that they’re being careless and they don’t care if the sub gets hurt or not, they actually need to put a lot of work in the background to make everything goes perfectly. It just occurred to me that the way Ian messes with Miranda sometimes has a similar energy to it.

Also… for a fetish story on a fetish forum that is basically about reducing a woman to sexual slavery, there is surprisingly little focus on the sex. Or sex at all, even.

So, happily enough, I let her marinate in her helplessness, and how far she had fallen.

Then I let her out.

Miranda’s tears cut off with a yelp as my hand approached her cage, and she backpettled frantically, as if hiding in an empty cage would protect her. She stilled, though, as I released the clasp and swung the door open invitingly. I waited, but she she didn’t move beyond fixing me with a suspicious stare.

“You’re free to go.” I said. “No tricks.”

Reaching back into the box, I pulled out her dress once again and laid it out on the table as she stared.

“Don’t you want this?” I teased. “Cloothes, Miranda. You like clothes.”

Cautiously, she ventured from the cage, never dropping eye contact with me as she took each tremulous step, until she reached the dress.

Bending over, and giving me a view of her back I had to force myself to not experence with touch as well as sight, Miranda picked up the small bundle of fabric. For a second, she closed her eyes and hugged it to herself. Then she looked to where I patiently waited.

“Well?” She asked. “Now what?”"

I smiled. “Now we play, Miranda. A simple game of choice, a brief series of binary questions. Or, you could leave the table right now, I guess.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t advise that, not if you ever want to see your friends again, but you could.”

She puffed herself up with righteous fury, but I cut in before she could go anywhere with it. “Oh, they’re fine. They’ll continue to be fine, even. But you will never see them again Miranda. Not until you play my little game.”

She bit back the first thing she wanted to say. Then the second, and the third, and quite possibly the fourth, before she found something she thought diplomatic enough to say.

“Fine, Ian. So how do we play?”

“I’ve already told you the how, Miranda: answer my questions. Pick Choice A or Choice B, no third answers, no refusal to choose. What you should be more interested in are the stakes.”

I leaned in eagerly, driving her back a step in response.

“I’m sure you remember what situation you were in just a minute ago. Well, unfortunately, your friends are in the exact same situation: locked away, no clothes, nothing to do, only Min Chow to eat. You can help them, Miranda… but it’ll cost you. Because right now? Right now, there’s only one set of freedoms in this house, and you have all of them. If you want their lot to improve? You have to worsen yours.”

My smile widened as she shook her head slowly.

“The name of the game is Sacrifice, Miranda. To give something up to receive something else in return. I made this because I’m curious: will you give up your comforts for theirs? How much do they mean to you?”

I leaned back as her wordless denials grew more frantic.

“Let’s find out: first question, Miranda. Who lives in a cage? Is it you, or them?”

At last she found her voice. “I… I can’t make that choice, Ian. I just can’t.”

I wagged a finger lecturingly. “Ah, you see, I thought you’d say that. So let’s make things clear: if you don’t choose, none of you get that freedom. It vanishes into the wind, lost forever. Either one of you lives in a cage, Miranda, or you all do.”

There was a beat of silence as it sank in. Then, “Them!” she shouted frantically. “Them! I’m not going back in there! I’m can’t handle it I-”

Then she gasped, and held her hand to her mouth as if trying to stop herself from saying anything else, but she didn’t try to take it back, either.

“Very well then, Miranda,” I said, trying to look and sound as soothing as possible. “No more cage for you.”

Unless I wanted to, of course. There was clearly some kind of trauma there, either from actually being in a cage or how she had walked herself inside it, and it wasn’t something I was above using.

She sagged in relief at my confirmation, and I let her have that brief moment to calm herself before I continued. At that moment, she looked indescribably pathetic in a way I couldn’t place: a lingerie clad woman, kneeling in helpless joy on a table that dwarfed her, hands clasped tightly around a dress so small it barely covered her.

“Thank you, Ian.” She whispered fervently. “Thank you.”

“Who eats Min Chow?” I asked in response, ruthlessly shattering her calm.

She stiffened at my words, and let out a silent gasp, but didn’t hesitate in answering. “They do, Ian.”

I nodded. “Who wears only underwear and heels?”

I had put this question after the other two for a reason: guilt. I couldn’t see her allowing herself to return to the cage or the Chow, but she had probably grown used to nudity at this point. After denying them twice, the guilt could be enough for her to accept that return. I was fine with the answer either way, really, I’d get my eyefulls of her no matter what, but seeing her struggle over the question so furiously was delightful.
Miranda hesitated again, and this time I didn’t interrupt, not wanting to taint her choice.

“I… I…” She began, before trailing off. She gulped and gathered her courage. “I do. I only wear my underwear.”

I couldn’t help licking my lips as she said it, and Miranda stirred uneasily at the sight. Even more so as I reached out and pinched the dress she still held in her hands. For an instant, she tried to fight me, to keep her hold on it, before surrendering it to my pull.

I didn’t move the fabric away immediately, instead letting her gaze at it with helpless desire a few moments more before returning it to the box a second time.

That, at least, would be returned to her in time, no matter what she thought about it. I had so much fun dressing her once that there was no way I would deny myself that pleasure in the future, both with more interesting outfits and a far more literal take on the phrase ‘dressing’.

“As for the last… I’ll admit that’s something I didn’t think through. There’s a pile of everything needed to make the Min House livable right in front of the very house they’re trapped in, yet I have nothing to add to the cage you’re not even using. I could leave it as an easy choice, but this is supposed to be a punishment…”

I mused on the problem briefly. “How about this? Either I subject you to some as yet undefined indignity in the future, or the others continue to live in their little house with nothing but some sheets. Seems fair to me.”

“‘Fair’, huh?” Miranda snorted bitterly. “Sure, that makes sense. You know what? Fine. Fine!”

She lifted her arms into the air, as if she was making it easier to grab her. “Do what you want to me; you’re going to anyways! I might as well give them something out of it.”

When I didn’t move, they fell back to her sides and she sighed.

“And besides, that makes two for them and two for me. Sounds pretty fair, doesn’t it?”

I’ll admit, I feel a bit rusty, and this chapter feels a tad off, but we’re back.

I trailed off, before reaching under Miranda’s chin with a finger, forcing her out of her slump to maintain eye contact with me.

“That is, if you’re a pet in good standing. If I find your attitude disrespectful, though, I’ll be forced to take action. There are lines a human can cross that pet are not allowed, after all.”

I sighed. “Of course, this is hard because it’s still you Miranda. There is only so much I’m willing to do to you compared to others, and that could make disciplining you… difficult.”

For a moment, hope flared into her eyes. Then I continued.

“Do you know what one of your biggest mistakes is, Miranda?” I asked. “About the situation we’re in?”

I paused, then clarified. “Beyond the obvious, of course.”

I watched the hope began to flicker and fade, but she didn’t respond. After a moment passed, I continued. “The fuss you made over Amber and Mia. The worry. The concern.”

I gazed deep into her eyes, watching the hope be snuffed out, the bleak despair being overtaken by a fresher, rawer fear.

“Yeeess.” I hissed gleefully, lifting my finger and forcing her to her feet. “If you doubted your ability to manage me, you never should have mentioned them, never should have brought them here. I know the Kennel was unpleasant, but I think you’ve realized by now that I can be worse if I feel the need. You thought I would protect them, but in reality? All you’ve done was give me a weakness to exploit, painted a target on their backs.”

At last, Miranda found her voice. “No… Ian, no please! They’re innocent! They didn’t do anything to you, they’ve tried to please you, Ian pleas-”

“You’re right.” I interrupted. She stared blankly at my response. “What? You are. They’ve bent over backwards to try and comply with my demands, and I’ll admit I’m happy with their attitudes. They’re attractive, willing little toys who would do just about anything for a cookie; what’s not to like? The thing is, Miranda, is that doesn’t matter. They could actually worship me as a god, with prayers and rituals, and they’d still be just as disposable to me as they are now. I may have grown attached to them, and I may regret the act, but you’ve helped me realize that, in one short car trip, I could easily go find two new toys to replace them, or more, even. There’s always going to be more Mins, after all. Ones just as desperate to please, ones so pathetically afraid and hungry that they’d willingly crawl into my mouth just for a chance to eat whatever leftovers remained…”

I stopped and considered what I just said. “Actually, that does sound kind of hot. I think I might want to try that later. But I’m wandering off topic here: while they are good little Mins, that fact only does so much for them. It’s what you think of them that makes their lives have any weight to them. Which, coincidentally, brings me to the next point.”

Reaching out, I scooped up Miranda by her butt, settling her next to my body as I tucked Sydney under my arm. “But first, let’s take this to the table. I think we’ll want the room.”

I had gone and collected a few things before I had returned to the chair, and I could see Miranda take in the new additions to the table top: the box where I had gotten the outfits out of… and a large cage. One just large enough for her to stand in, with its door hanging open invitingly.

Near the top, a water bottle was attached at just the right height for Miranda to be able to drink from its metal tube, while a currently empty tray for food sat on top of a soft bed of litter, the only other feature in an empty environment. To complete the picture, a simple clip hung from the door, one I could manipulate easily, but still requiring more force than even Sydney could muster to open.

“I had a couple of weeks before my house was ready,” I explained to Miranda as I reached my usual chair, “And I decided it would be for the best to prepare for almost any eventuality. I didn’t really think I’d need it, but now I’m happy I thought ahead so much.”

Gently, I deposited Miranda onto the table, where she scrambled to her feet uneasily, before putting Sydney back onto my lap.

“You know, Sydney, you’ve started to grow on me.” I mentioned almost absently as I began to stroke her back again. “Under the circumstance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate you from Miranda, but you’re turning out to be a great little lap pet all the same.”

There was something unbelievably soothing about petting something so soft and warm, and way she rested perfectly in her new place.

“But now that we’re all here, I think we should turn back to the subject at hand.” I began, turning back to Miranda.

“Amber and Mia. Your friends… or should I say, your ‘friends’? They’re disposable to me, Miranda, but I’m curious: what do they mean to you? I know I call them your friends, but are they? Do you actually like spending time with them? Or they a burden, an obligation? A symbol of your guilt? Or perhaps are they even less than that? Do you just like having little toys of your own, Miranda? Little helpless creatures so desperate for help that they’d even take the person who ruined their lives as a protector? That’s what we’re going to find out, because now we’re going to play a game.”

I smiled a shark’s grin, toothy and filled with anticipation, and she shuddered. “I call it Sacrifice, and for now, Sacrifice is how we’ll clarify your new living situation. Sacrifice, you see, is a game with real life consequences, with penalties that will be very real. And the first thing you need to do to play is simple: strip.”

Miranda’s eyes widened, and she backed away, holding up her arms in a futile defensive moment. “What? Ian, no-”

“Ian, yes.” I interrupted. “But don’t worry, Miranda, it’s completely necessary. How can you understand the cost of losing something when you still have it? But before you can object, like you always do, I need to make something clear.”

Reaching out, I pushed two fingers into her stomach, and she let out a delightful little sound of surprise as she fell onto her butt.

“You, Miranda, are being punished. Normally, I like it when you struggle a bit, fight, complain. Show me that spirit I fell in love with. But right now? Every time you defy me, every time you disobey, every time you refuse? I take something away from you, or the others. I’ve taken a lot of things from them, Miranda, and there’s only so much I take from them until there’s nothing left. So, if I were you, I’d think very carefully about your choices.”

I leaned back in my chair, removing myself from her presence, as she got back up. I wanted whatever to happen to be by done by her own hands.

“So, Miranda. Clothes off.” I tilted my head. “Or do you want to see what happens?”

As it turns out, Miranda did not want to find out what happens.

“Good.” I crooned gently as she reached for the back of her dress. “Good girl, Miranda.”

It wasn’t a strip show, sadly; Miranda took of her clothing in as efficient way as she could, all the while staring at me with soulful, tear filled eyes, silently pleading for what she didn’t dare to ask. As she finally removed the dress, I stared at what she revealed, the tiny intricate underwear, all transparent silk and lace adorning her body, attracting the eye in just right way.

She looked significantly less pleased with my enraptured attention to her outfit than she had been earlier.

“Stop there.” I commanded. “And get those shoes back on.”

Confused, she put the heels back on. I didn’t explain the reasoning, yet. That would be later. Next up…

I laid my hand, face up onto the table, halfway between where me and where she stood. “Bring me the dress, Miranda.”

At that, she started to open her mouth, only to close it in sudden realization. Instead, she reluctantly picked up her outfit from the table and walked towards me on shaky legs, only to stop at my hand.

Miranda looked me said a single, almost sobbing word. “Please.”

It had worked on me before now; again and again and again, I had folded before her desperation. Now I only raised an eyebrow in the air as I asked a simple question.

“Do you think I won’t?”

Miranda broke then, just a bit. She stayed standing, but she sagged in place, her body going limp, tears now falling from her face. I don’t think she even realized she had dropped her dress, or that it had fallen into my hand, until I spoke.

“Good girl, Miranda.” She straightened up at the sound of my voice, in that same way I had seen from the other: at attention, arms behind her back, chest out, head tilted submissively

A beat past, then I saw her move past her unconscious reaction, staring at her now empty hands, and then mine, as she realized what happened.

“You did well.” I continued warmly. “I know you’re having a hard time listening to instruction at the moment, but don’t worry, we’ll get through it together.”

I reached out with my free hand and gently stroked a finger against her cheek; she sighed gently and leaned into my touch, so engrossed by the sensation that she failed to notice the first hand put her dress back into the box. I could have stopped there, but instead, I caressed her hair, a smaller, kinder smile on my face.

No matter what I tried, the bigger gestures I made for her had never gone over well; she had stressed, struggled, and worried every step of the way. It was only moments like these, smaller in scope, with simple physical affection and praise that she truly seemed at peace.

It made me wonder: did she even want to live a life as a person? To face the complexities and hardships of trying to charter her own way in life, against the limitations of being a Min? To try and act an equal against people, beings that physically were so far beyond her to make her seem as nothing and that her mind couldn’t even conceive of being human?

Or did she, somewhere deep inside, want to be owned after all? To live the life of a pet princess, spoiled and adored with a tiny toy crown on her head? Cared for, clothed in finery, fed off her Master’s own plate and carried to and fro, all without worrying about anything more than her own happiness and doing what she was told?

On my lap, I could feel Sydney’s body being lifted up by the power of my erection, the way she adjusted herself around it. It only made me feel even hotter.

“I’m proud of you, Miranda.” I said. “I’m so proud. Are you ready for the next step?”

She frowned as I removed my finger, before tentatively nodding.

“Good. Good, Miranda.” I paused. “Now, get in the cage.”

She jerked. “N-” she began, stopping herself before she could violate my taboo, only to began to beg. “Please. Please Ian, please don’t do this, please!”

I held out my finger again and Miranda rubbed her face against it, almost frantically, hoping it was a sign I’d listen to her and we’d go back to what we were doing before. It was a tempting thought, true, and something I’d love to explore.

But all of this was about proving a point.

I gave her a minute to lavish me with affection before speaking. “Wait any longer, Miranda, and I’ll take that as disobedience.”

She flung herself away from my finger like it burned her, staring at me in betrayal. She stared up at me, and mouthed, ‘please’, one more time, before her nerve broke. Letting out a horrified cry, she turned on her heel and ran into the cage. Once she made it inside, she fell to her knees upon the litter and sobbed into her hands.

“Good girl, Miranda.” I soothed. “Good, good girl.”

Under the sound of my praise, her tears slowed and she looked back to me hopefully. “You did so well, didn’t you? That wasn’t so bad, now was it? Isn’t it nice to listen to me? Isn’t it nice to make me proud?”

I watched her sniffle, and wipe away the rest of the tears before she got back to her feet. Despite the fact she was standing in a literal cage, she smiled at me, happy with her simple treatment and my basic kindness.

It was almost sad to manipulate her so easily.

“Be a good little pet, Miranda, and close the door.” She paled. “Close yourself in the cage, Miranda.”

She shook, for a long, long moment, but then she took a step forward without me having to say anything else. Then another, and another, until she stood in front of the cage’s entrance. She reached out towards the door, only to stop again, hesitation clear on her face. She looked at me, then, then the cage, then at me again.

Then Miranda, without me having to do anything more than speak, closed the door, sealing herself in a cage of her own free well.

Immediately, she grabbed the bars, as if to undo what she had just done, and wept hysterically before she began to scream.

“No. No. NonononononoNONONO!” As I reached out my own hand to pull the cage towards me, her panicked cries gained a new focus.

“Ian! Ian! What did you do to me? What did you do to me?!”

“Me?” I asked, as the cage arrived before me. “Nothing, Miranda. Absolutely nothing.”

Calmly, I grabbed the dangling clasp and locked the door with a smile. “You did this to yourself.”

And would you believe I’m kind of winging this entire thing? I’m glad to hear it’s still working out!

Awesome stuff again! Love every slow step you’re taking with this. Also happy to hear your medical problems are solved.

“Good girl.” I told her again, more enthusiastically this time. “You did just as I told you! Good job!”

Settling into my char, I placed an elbow in front of Miranda and my head against my fist, allowing me to easily loom over her.

Thinking for a moment, I turned my to observe the other arm of the chair. “Ah, Sydney. You’re still there.”

If Miranda hadn’t left her spot since I had left, I wasn’t sure if Sydney had moved since I had placed her there. Casually, I picked her up and plopped her face down onto my lap. She started a bit at first, but I began to brush my hand against her back, and she stopped squirming after a moment. It was almost adorable to watch her curl up slightly, knees towards her body and her head on her arms, as if she was ready to take a nap then and there.

It felt a bit like she had turned into a cat.

After a minute I turned my head back, still continuing to stroke my new pet’s back.

“Tell me something, Miranda. Do you know why I’m mad?” I asked.

She had been watching my interactions with wide eyes, but as soon as I refocused on her she paled. After a second passed, she shook her head slightly.

I sighed. “Alright. Let me sum things up. You, Miranda, came to me because you were lonely and afraid, and hoped to leverage my affection for you into a better life. It worked.”

I paused for emphasis. “For about three hours, maybe. Then you blew up our little bargain at the first possible opportunity, because apparently actually going through with what you negotiated with was too hard for you. After that, things became… unstable between us. I’ve been thinking about it, and I finally realized why: I don’t think you consider me a person.”

Which, I’ll admit, was ironic considering our situation.

Before she could say anything, I shushed her. “Quiet, Miranda. Right now it’s my turn to talk. Although, that is somewhat related: you don’t talk to me. You appease me. You try and talk me down from something, and you try to bargain with me. Every time that you’ve decided to spend time with me, Miranda, you did it with an objective in mind, a goal to accomplish.”

I stopped and thought about my next words before I spoke. “And in the grand scheme of things, it’s not like I mind that, really; if you want to sell me your time, attention, worry and body for little things? I’m certainly not complaining, though it’s interesting that you value yourself so cheaply. But the thing is, after the pizza incident, we renegotiated your situation here, and in my mind, we did built around the idea of us… let’s say courting each. Not that we’re in a romantic relationship per say, but considering one, feeling each other out for the possibility.”

Miranda stared at me, confused but listening. She jolted at my next sentence. “And then I realized you were horny.”

“It’s not surprising, really,” I continued, ignore-ing the way she sputtered. “If nothing else, the last fifteen minutes or so have proved a point about Min sensitivity, and you haven’t had sex with a man since Jarret left you to die of old age in a government holding cell. Of course you’re horny.”

Miranda all but staggered at that, a look of actual pain crossing her face. Even I thought that was a bit of a low blow, but, hey. I was still mad. I wasn’t above a low blow or two.

“And again, it’s not like I’m against that, I mean fuck, I love the idea that you’re horny. I’d like you to be horny all the time, really. But it wasn’t just that, it was the situation we were in that made things clear to me. If you wanted to have sex then, well, that moment was the perfect time to do it. We both know I would be up for it any time you wanted to, of course, but still. The thing is, you didn’t, because you don’t; even if your body is saying ‘yes’, your mind is saying ‘no’. More than that, though, it was saying '‘panic’: you were afraid when you saw me realizing that you were turned on, and that helped me put it all together.”

For the first time since the conversation, I stopped petting Sydney, and used my free hand to poke Miranda in the chest, forcing her a step back. Then, just for fun of it, I reached down slightly and curved my finger around her cleavage, bouncing her breasts slightly against its tip.

She glared up at me, but I saw the fear in her eyes all the same. Moreover, I saw the slight blush on her cheeks, the way she bit her lip.

“You’re afraid, but it’s not about me hurting you. Even Mia realized you were safe from that before she had even spent a day with me. You’re afraid of abandonment, true, but I’m not going to… lose interest after the first time or anything; we’re clearly in a long haul situation here. So that begs the question: what are you afraid of?”

My wandering finger went lower still, between her legs, before rising so high Miranda was forced to balance on it, her arms braced against my hand, with the tips of her shoes barely touching the chair. The glare hadn’t faded, or the fear, but the blush had only grown in strength and she was panting lightly as I held her there.

“It was obvious really, when I thought about it; hell, you told me yourself. You’re not afraid I’ll stop, you’re afraid I won’t stop, that I won’t let you stop. And you’re afraid of that, Miranda, because you don’t trust me to act like a person. You don’t see me as Ian Hunter, Miranda, the man who stared at you just a little too much. You look at me and you still see the dog. You see a gigantic hellhound that hasn’t realized he’s off the leash yet. You see the shark-eyed god that haunts your nightmares.”

I lifted her higher, just enough that her feet could no longer touch anything, kicking back and forth in the air helplessly as Miranda stared up at me, her face completely red, and the anger all but vanished from her expression. Meanwhile, ever so slowly, the tip of my finger grew wet.

“You don’t see me as a person, you see me as a monster.” I stated my accusation calmly, but at this point Miranda was fidgeting so much she probably couldn’t have replied if she wanted to. It was fun, playing with her, but we couldn’t really have a conversation like this.

Regretfully, I lowered her back onto the chair: for a brief instant, she tried to stand, then her legs gave out from under her and she fell on her butt.

“That leads us to now. I’ll admit, Miranda, at first I was angry just out of the sheer frustration of it. Then I was angry that I realized you still didn’t trust me, and it became even worse when I realized you may be right, that I probably wouldn’t stop.” I shrugged. “I mean, why would I?”

I paused to gauge how much she was paying attention to me, and judging by the way her hands were reaching under her dress, it wasn’t nearly as much as I would have liked.

That changed when I slammed my fist down in front of her, and the sound of it was loud enough startled Sydney into sudden wakefulness. Miranda scrambled back from my hand so hard she nearly fell off the chair before she caught herself.

“But I’m livid, Miranda, because I realized I couldn’t have what I wanted. You may not know this, but I’m very greedy, and I find it very upsetting when something is denied to me.”

At last, I lowered my head from my hand, lowered it so far that I had to turn it so one of my eyes could focus in on her.

“You are mine, Miranda, do you understand me?” The words came out like a snarl, my voice echoing the frustrated anger that filled me. “Mine. I own you, Miranda, all of you. Every single inch of your body, every strand of your hair, every tear that falls from your eyes, every cry, every scream; all of them are mine, Miranda, mine by the right of law, by your own hand, and by dint of the fact you can’t stop me from doing whatever I want to you. All of it! All of it is mine to adore, mine to protect, mine to do with whatever I please! But there’s more in you, Miranda, than just the things I can hold in my hand. There’s more that I want and I can’t get it!”

By the time I finished, Miranda had begun to hyperventilate, utterly still in a way that spoke of her body locking up in sheer terror. I found myself staring at her, at her fear, and licking my lips at the sight of it. I remembered again how confident she was when she compared me to the dog, the way I had drooled at the thought.

The way she had laughed.

I forced myself to stop, made myself turn away, and spent a minute or two simply stroking Sydney to calm down. She had woken up completely at this point, watching me with a wary eye, but as I pet her again she began to settle down. Eventually I felt rational enough to continue the talk. Turning, I saw that Miranda didn’t seem to be, but I continued regardless.

She didn’t need to speak, after all. Just listen.

“The thing is, Miranda, I can take your body, I can do whatever I want to it, but I want more: I want you. Your happiness, your love, your affection… everything. And that’s something I can’t simply take. I can’t make you love me, but … I had some hope you could grow to love me, in time.”

I pursed my lips. “So you can understand my frustration when I realized we seemed to be thinking different things, and that, as things stood, that couldn’t happen. You’re not going to fall in love with me like this, Miranda. At the idea of me, maybe, at what I represent, but that’s not the same. I could get close, I suppose, if just broke you and taught whatever was left utter devotion to me, but if I did that you wouldn’t be you anymore, and that’d just be missing the point.”

I sighed. “I wanted you… as a girlfriend, if I had to name it, or maybe my wife, and in that vein I treated you in as someone who could become that, as a human being. As things stand, that’s not going to happen, so I’m going to settle for having you as my pet. If I can’t make you fall in love with me as a person, Miranda, I can at least make you love me as your Master, as the god you worship and fear. Needless to say, your situation is going to have change to reflect that fact.”

She was there, still, though she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else from the look of overwhelming horror on her face as she started at me. Probably, she was too afraid of what would happen if she ran. Miranda had climbed off my leg at some point, and was crouched down at the farthest corner of the arm rest from me she could get: realistically, that was less than a foot of distance, and still well within my grabbing range, but the thought behind it was clear. She also had managed to tear a hole in her stockings, and that marvelous dress was wrinkled now.

“Miranda.” I said finally. “Come here.”

She hesitated, only to flinch as my voice lashed out. “Now.”

At that, she straightened up, and began to walk towards me, face blank, body trembling, and her arms held around… ah.

Once Miranda drew near enough, I flipped my hand over and held in the air, waist level to her. I waited a second, but she only stared at my hand warily.

“Miranda. It’s time to put your toys away.”

It wasn’t a statement, and it wasn’t an order: it was a command, one that left her no choice but to comply. Unconsciously she reacted to the authority I had put in my voice, body going ramrod straight, before the actual orders I had told her sunk in. That broke her already fraying facade, and she looked at me in shock.

“Ian, I-” She began, but I cut her off before she could continue.

“Either give them up, or it gets worse.” I said implacably, and she bowed before the determination in my words.

Full-out shaking now, Miranda slowly placed her friends into my grasp. I took a moment to consider the scene: Miranda, bent and broken, clothes a mess and eyes bright with tears, and her friends, two tiny and insignificant figures, sat huddled in the palm of my hand.

It felt good, and I savoured that feeling before I continued.

The outstretched hand then became a fist, fingers folding over their victims and trapping them in place. She let out a half hearted cry at that, a “please” that trailed off before she could finish the word, and an outstretched arm that dropped before she could even touch me.

Moments later, she dropped to her knees, while In the darkness of my hand neither of the lesser Mins dared to move.

I let the silence sit briefly before I spoke again. “Good girl.”

Unlike the last time I had said it, Miranda didn’t fight the words, only slumping slightly in shame, even as her cheeks grew pink. I studied the expression briefly before I continued.

“Stay.” And before she could respond, I rose from my chair and walked away, leaving her stranded on the chair.

xxx

Fundamentally, a Min House was nothing more than a doll house taken to it’s logical extremes, in a world where people grew small enough to fit in them: electricity, water, cold storage and functional furniture, everything a Min could need, all presented with the comforting illusion of normality to help shield them from the cold realities of their new lives. At first glance, it resembled nothing more than a normal house, but the more you examined it, the more the abnormalities began to show a far different picture.

There were no doors, inside the house or out, only the rectangular openings where a door would hang. The wall in front protruded several inches over the single entrance inside, and from the middle of the squared off roof rose a handle. The most obvious, and ominous, difference were the three windows: they were massive, compared to the rest of the building, and almost completely replaced the three walls they part of, leaving only the front wall solid.

In truth, the Min House was more like a furnished aquarium than an actual house, and it reflected a simple truth that the Mins probably tried not to think about, even as those lucky enough to live in one were reminded daily.

At the end of the day, Min Houses, like doll houses, were nothing more than toys made for their owners, no matter much they pandered to the toys that lived, or were trapped, inside them. I unlocked mine easily and swung open the outer section on its well concealed hinge, leaving the rest of the house and the base it was built on open for giant hands to easily access.

“Here’s the deal,” I began. “Miranda’s in trouble, and you’re all paying for it. Because of that, I’m confiscating some of the things I’ve been lending you.”

The Min House stood two ‘stories’ high, and was fully furnished with rugs, carpets, chairs and couches. In all honesty, it was probably more luxurious than my house was.

That changed when I began to remove the contents, piece by piece. First the rosewood dining table, with engravings so fine I could barely see them, was set to the side, before I took the rug that had sat under it and place it on top of it. Then the leather (or pleather?) couch was sat next to the table, followed by the plush chair…

By the time I finished, the pile of furniture rose higher than Amber, and both of the Mins were looking inside their barren home with pained expressions. Finally I grabbed the first bed, and held it for a minute before putting it front of my prisoners.

“Here.” They looked at me cautiously, and I elaborated. “Take everything off; sheets, blankets, pillows, the whole lot.”

After they stripping the first bed, I placed the other nine next to it, watching without comment as they reduced each one to nothing more than mattress and frame. Once they finished, I placed the pile of bedding back into the house.

“Good. Next, take care of yourselves.”

There was a moment of stillness, before Mia awkwardly raised her hand. “Do you want a show or…?”

I considered it. Tempting, tempting, but I had things to do. “Not right now, no. Maybe later. Just take the clothes off.”

I watched them as they peeled off their close fitting outfits in a quick, business like fashion. Even without any dramatics, I found myself licking at my lips at the sight of it, and I stepped in as they began to take off their bras.

“Stop.” They froze at my words, staring at me in confused fear before I continued. “Leave those on.”

It was an impulsive comment, but not one I regretted: they looked fantastic in their underwear, and the idea of the two women in their little cage-house, wearing nothing but their underwear at my whim, was an idea I quickly grew fond of.

In fact…

“Put the boots back on.”

High heels were the best heels.

Confiscating their discarded clothes, I dropped them on top of the furniture stack, before turning back to the Mins.

“You two are going to be locked inside until further notice, pending me reaching a new understand with Miranda. I’ll check in on you every once and awhile, and while I wouldn’t mind a show when I do, this really has nothing to do with you. If it goes on long enough, I’ll think about taking you two out to play a bit, maybe with some food, but you won’t see her until we make up. Understood?”

They both curtsied. “Yes Master”, they said in unison. “Thank you, Master.”

I nodded. “Good. Now get inside.”

Obidently, they filled back into their home, making sure to stand far away from the edges as I put the house back together. Once I finished sealing up the Min House, I pressed a button below the handle and watched the front wall fall down, revealing a final window as the ‘door’ disappeared.

I observed for a minute, watching the two of them walking around while trying to ignore my face looming above their windows, before I nodded in satisfaction.

Good. Now for Miranda.

Alright, I’ll admit that Miranda was supposed to be dealt with here, but that little world building session kind of dragged on and this felt like a good place to stop. Next time, I promise.

“But that,” I said over her startled yelp, “Is a conversation for another time. This isn’t about you and Miranda, not now anyways.”

I smiled as I grabbed one of her legs. “This is about me.”

For a moment, I toyed with it almost absently, as I had with Miranda not too long ago. But that was then, and this was now.

Deliberately, I moved my grip higher, and brushed against the inside of her thigh.

“You know, Sydney, I’ve been wanting to cut loose for awhile now, but I’ve held my patience for all this time.”

Time that could be measured in days or years, depending on how you wanted to look at it. Either way, it was far too long for my tastes.

“But I’m done waiting.” I continued as I stared down into her uncertain expression.

Miranda wanted a show, and I was happy to deliver.

I flicked my finger lightly towards the space between her legs and she yelped again, now with pain mixed with the surprise.

“And I’m ready for some fun.”

Slowly, I pressed the tips of my fingers against her skin and dragged them across her. Up, down, to the sides, I followed a winding path wherever I pleased, tracing the patterns I felt within her: tiny muscles, oh so fragile bones, the borders of her chest as it expanded and contracted with her every rapid breath.

Eventually, I broke the tense silence. “I’m curious, Sydney. You hear all sorts of rumors about Mins, but there’s one in particular I’d like to hear from the source, as it were.”

My wandering hand finally paused, fingers posed at the top and bottom of one of her breasts.

“Tell me, how does it feel when I do this?”

Sharply, the fingers slide to the top, pinching her nipple between them.

She screamed, this time.

“Pain and Mins, apparently, is a hotly debated topic. Some say that it’s… naturally erotic to you, that every Min is a natural sub that wants to be toyed with and tortured.”

I let go as a finger began to circle her tortured nipple.

“Others say it’s a matter of training. That you can just teach a Min to enjoy the pain, if you work at it a litte.”

“I’d like to settle that question, once and for all. So answer me this: was that a good pain, or a bad one?” I asked, before adding with mock solemnity, “And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest.”

“It was a bad pain, Master!” Sydney cried. “A bad pain! P-please don’t do it again!”

I nodded. “Good, good. That’s exactly what I want to hear: nice, clear answers.”

I was only half joking. There were lots of rumors of Mins and their sexuality; and while it was generally agreed that they had a sensitivity that far outmatched that of a human’s, the details from there on were a bit foggy. I had realized early on that only experience would give me some clarity on my unanswered questions, and while I had looked forward to working them out together with Miranda… Sydney would do just as well for this. Besides, with how things were going, it was probably for the best that I worked out the kinks before I got to Miranda.

“You’re being such a good little test subject, aren’t you?” I continued. “What a good toy you are! I think you deserve a reward.”

Shifting focus away from her breasts for the moment, I shifted my hold on Sydney, taking her legs more firmly into my hand as I positioned her so my thumb rested directly on her rear end.

Carefully, I began to knead at one buttock, adding as an aside, “You know, you do have a nice ass.”

Confused and wary, Sydney turned as far as she could in my grip to look up at me, but as I continued my impromptu message she began to lean against my digit instead, letting out a small sigh.

I continued as my thumb moved to the other cheek. “Nice and firm. Even now, I bet you could bounce a quarter off it, though probably not as high as you could before.”

Gradually, my thumbed moved higher, to the small of her back, and Sydney began to almost lay limp in my hand.

While Mins being little torture sluts seemed to be disproved, the fact that they all but melted under a massage was becoming an all but confirmed fact; I had no experience in massage, but Sydney seemed to have already forgotten the abuse I had inflicted on of the most delicate areas on her body just a few minutes ago.

Useful information, to be sure, but it teasing out this information from her body was something I could only call enthralling. You could read all you wanted to about the enhanced sensitivity of the disportionately large nerves in a Min, but that knowledge was nothing compared to the experience of a woman’s complete surrender to a simple touch.

It was a heady feeling, and one that I knew I could easily become addicted too… not that I minded the idea.

Quietly, I moved Sydney down onto my free leg, taking a moment to check on Miranda before I continued. I expected her to be watching me, maybe looking at me with the vicious approval she had just begun to reveal, or perhaps more of the blank non-reaction she showed when I scared her and she didn’t want me to know it.

It was none of those things. She wasn’t even looking at me. Instead, I looked down to find her staring at the raging hard on that had developed as I had toyed with Sydney. And she was blushing.

It didn’t take long for Miranda to realize something was wrong, to look up into my shocked eyes. She paled instantly, and her sudden dread infuriated me, ruining the high I had been riding.

She noticed.

“Ian, I-” she began.

I interrupted her.

“No.” I all but snarled. “No, we’re not doing this right now. We’re not. You-”

I couldn’t finish, instead letting out a long, low hiss of pure frustration. Squeezing my eyes shut so hard that I saw spots, I forced myself to not think about it. I wanted, I wanted her so badly, and she knew that, and she-

“We’re not doing this right now.” I repeated, as much to myself as to Miranda. “We’re just not. I can’t handle that conversation right now. You don’t want me to try and have that conversation right now.”

Or maybe she did. It was an insidious thought, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shake it.

Some distant, almost predatory corner of my mind had catalogued the way everyone on my body had moved when my eyes were closed, and while both of them had shifted in ways that I could only call fearful, neither of them tried to leave. It was, whether they knew it or, absolutely the right move on their parts: I would have chased any runners.

“And thankfully, we don’t have to.” As I spoke, I opened my eyes, focusing my attention on a safer target.

“That’s what Sydney’s for, isn’t she? This is why you wanted her here, wasn’t it? To… handle all the things you can’t.”

That you won’t.

“To be used in your place.”

I turned my attention back to Miranda, and finished venomously, “To be your replacement.”

By the time I finished Miranda looked almost ill with horror and despair, with tiny, diamond-like tears welling in her eyes. It was cruel to prey on her fears like this, to turn her own words against her, but I was feeling cruel.

As a final blow, I proceeded to do the thing Miranda feared most from me: I ignored her, turning away from her to focus on the other woman instead.

At some point, Sydney had decided that it was the perfect time to imitate a deer in the headlights. It was as foolish a decision for her as it always was for the deer, though to be far she had reached a point where in all honesty she had no good options.

I was upset, and was going to take it out on someone, and everyone knew it was going to be on her. There was nothing she could to save herself from me.

When I moved my hand towards her this time, it wasn’t to pick her up, but to pin her in place.

“I’d tell you this is for the sake of our little experiment,” I stated calmly as lifted my free hand in the air. I left it there to let the two of them take it in, to realize what was about to happen. Even Sydney, with hand covering the small of her back, could squirm just enough to look around and take in my looming hand.

From my other side I heard a quiet gasp.

“But I’m not going to bother with excuses. I just want to hurt someone right now, and I’ve decided you’re the one that’s up. You didn’t do anything wrong, you’re just unlucky.” I tensed my arm, only to pause and add, almost sheepishly, “And in all honesty, because it’s going to feel nice. You really do have one spankable ass.”

And then before anyone could react, I let my arm fall. Sydney jerked under my hand, let out a agonized cry that left me baring my teeth in a snarl of delight.

I hit her again. And again. And again. I lost myself to the motion of my violence, to the sounds of pain and the oh so satisfying smack against my palm. Eventually, I stopped, and realized I was panting for breath, and my throat was sore, as if I had been screaming.

Still pressed down against my leg, Sydney lay limp, crying quietly.

I didn’t look for Miranda.

Sydney didn’t react as my hand closed around her before lifting her into the air, and for the moment I chose to ignore her, and focus more on how I had damaged her: not only her butt, but her thighs and lower back were a bright, angry red that almost seemed to throb as I looked at it.

It was bad; worse than I would have liked, but not nearly as bad as I had feared. Nothing seemed broken, or out of place, and I couldn’t see anything breaking her skin, either. There would almost certainly be some nasty bruising, and maybe there was something worse happening inside her, but all things considered Sydney still seemed to be intact.

I had meant to hurt, not maim, and it seemed that even in my frenzy I had kept to that desire. On impulse I brought her to my face, and planted a light kiss on one red cheek, and then the other.

"There there, " I murmered, as soothingly as I could, “It’s all over. You did a great job, Sydney. I’m proud of you.”

Moving her back, I stopped as I noticed something glisten in the light. Carefully, I reached out with a finger and prodded at the liquid that coated the inside of her legs. Sydney’s cries turned into a startled yelp at the contact, and I was surprised to see her legs squeeze shut, trying to keep me pinned in place.

Gently, I extracted my finger from her hold, trying to avoid causing any more damage in the process, and I would have had to been deaf to miss the frustrated whine she made as it escaped.

“Well.” I said finally as I examined the fluid that covered my finger tip. “What do you know? The internet didn’t lie to me.”

One major surgery and numerous other related health crises later, I’ve returned to tell you all this: I lived, bitch. It’s not an exaggeration in the least to say this is the best I’ve felt in a decade.

So, yeah, I’m back. Feels nice.

Anyways, if my forced time off from doing things was good for nothing else, I’ve got a pretty solid picture of where this story’s going in the future; probably at least… six chapters, if not more, that I know what is going to happen, I just need to write it. Which is more complicated than it should be, but is better than having no idea at all, at least. Let’s all ignore how this diverted from my plans as I wrote it and how that could affect my future planning, OK?

All that said… does this chapter track? I know what I want from this, but i’m not sure Ian’s sudden frustration makes sense as is, from a reader’s perspective. It makes sense to me, but let me know if I need to try to expand on that or if it seems good.

Miranda was right, it was an obvious idea, now that she pointed it out to me: I had grown used to considering the Mins in my house as things I shouldn’t touch, but in the first place, that line of thought was abnormal. Beyond that, though, Sydney was loathed by Miranda.

Why would she protect her?

“That…” I began slowly, “Is an interesting point.”

I turned my head to consider the Min in question: I had lifted my arm off of Sydney a few minutes ago, but even though she had had the opportunity, she hadn’t moved, only looking at me with fear filled eyes.

“You know, Miranda, I when I gave Sydney to you, it was with the implicit understanding that she was yours; your toy to play with, or not to play with, at your discretion. I didn’t think about you wanting to share.”

Gently, I rested Miranda back upon my leg, before turning more fully towards Sydney and locking my eyes on her.

“Should I take this to be a more… permanent change?” I asked. “That I can use Sydney whenever I want?”

A look of terror flashed across her face, but the Min didn’t move from her place.

“Or a more temporary arrangement?” I continued. “We’re getting along so well that I wouldn’t want to over reach.”

Miranda laughed. “Is that why? That actually explains a lot, in a weird way.”

She hummed musingly for a moment, considering it. “Honestly? I don’t actually mind you using Sydney, but I think I’d prefer the… what did you call it? The discretion.”

She said the word slowly, as if savoring it. “The choice.”

Miranda laughed again, scooting herself across my thigh to lean her back against my stomach. “I like the idea of you having to ask me for her. But we can talk more about that later, can’t we? Let’s get on with the show.”

I hadn’t dropped eye contact with Sydney the entire time, but now I focused my entire attention on the Min. “You heard the lady: get up, chop chop.”

To her credit, Sydney leapt up from where I had placed her, and though she stumbled a moment after standing, presumably because of how long she had laid there, she managed to stay upright.

“Good.” i said, before twirling my finger in the air. “Now give us a spin.”

Obligingly, Sydney spun in place, her hair rising up into the air for a moment before settling back down as she stopped.

“Again.” I instructed. “And slower. What do you think?”

“You know, you really are beautiful, Sydney.” Miranda commented. “I always hated that about you.”

“Any thoughts on what she should do next?” I asked.

“No, Ian, I want to see what you’ll do to her. Just consider me part of the audience for today.”

“Fair enough.” I clapped my hands twice, and Sydney froze in mid-spin.

“On your knees,” I commanded, and Sydney dropped like I hit her. “Now, crawl to Miranda. Kiss her shoes.”

From her spot on my leg, Sydney peered across the gap that separated the leg she knelt on and the leg Miranda sat on. Even it at her size, it wasn’t that big a leap, something she could have easily crossed… if she was standing. On her hands and knees, it would be more complicated.

Meaningfully, Miranda turned, moving her feet from my leg to rest on the opening of my sweatpants. I flinched at the touch for a second before recovering and she snickered at my discomfort before we both turned back to the other Min, taking in the fresh despair on her face.

“Crawl.” I repeated, as I watched Sydney think about it. “Don’t make me say it again.”

“Yes, Master,” She muttered fearfully as her head bobbed up and down. “Whatever you say.”

Turning away, she continued her crawl, towards me now, stopping when she reached my chest. Deliberately, she reached out with a hand and rested it directly on my crotch, looking up as she did so to gauge my reaction to her move. I lifted an eyebrow and she quickly continued forward before sprawling out in front on Miranda, her stomach now laying on my leg, her head upon my slowly hardening penis, and her knees flat on my other leg, raising her ass up into the air.

As she lifted her face to Miranda’s shoes, I interrupted as a thought occurred to me.

“What do you say?”

Sydney glanced up to me questioningly. “You are about to kiss Miranda’s shoes. She is allowing you to kiss her shoes, as a favor, so that you don’t fail me. She doesn’t have to let you, she could just let you be punished, after all. Wouldn’t it be polite to ask her permission first?”

Miranda laughed as Sydney’s head turned back to her before lowing submissively.

“Mistress.” She began. “Would you do your toy the favor, of allowing me the… the honor of kissing your shoe, to… to dirty it with my lips?”

Miranda turned to face Sydney fully and braced herself against my arm, before lifting her leg up into the air as high as she could. It barely rose above Sydney’s head, considering the size difference between the two of them, but it made her point nevertheless.

“What makes you worthy of such an honor,” she asked contemptuously. “What makes you deserving, toy…”

Slowly, deliberately, she lowered her foot until the point of her heel rested on top of Sydney’s head.

“When you deserve to be, not even at my feet, but beneath them?”

Sydney shook in fear and humiliation. “Nothing, Mistress. Nothing. There is nothing that makes me worthy, but I beg you all the same. Please, Mistress, I beg you to allow your humble toy this honor.”

Miranda considered it, and for a moment it seemed like she would let the act stretch on, but, perhaps because she wanted to see where elise I would go with this, she ultimately let her foot fall right before Sydney’s mouth.

“I will allow it, just this once.”

There was a moment of stillness before Sydney lunged forward, all but grinding her mouth against Miranda’s heels in her eagerness. On occasion, she lifted her face slightly and I could see her tongue reach out to lap against the leather before her mouth made contact again. I gave it maybe half a minute before I lightly flicked a finger against her conveniently raised butt.

“Enough.” I ordered over her surprised yelp. “Now, mastrubate. Get yourself off while thanking Miranda for her kindness.”

“What?” Sydney asked, confused, before breaking off into a scream as I raised my hand into the air. I ignored her fear, but the way Miranda froze at my motion made me stop with a sigh.

Just like that, I could feel the mood wither and die.

Instead of grabbing her, as I had planned, I simply rested my fingers on her back and began to tap them against her bare skin.

It was one thing for Sydney to flinch every time I reached towards her, but Miranda doing the same was me actively losing progress with her. Clearly, this wasn’t working; it was time for a new tactic.

Brutal honesty, with Amber and Mia, had built a more solid understanding with them about what I would and wouldn’t do with them, the foundation for a basic level of trust. Perhaps Sydney would do well if I applied similar honesty to her.

“…Alright, Sydney. I think it’s time for us to have a talk of our own. Expand on what Miranda said. Clarify a few things for you.” I said finally.

Miranda’s face settled at my words, tension slowly leaving her body, and Sydney herself nodded warily, calmer than she had been before. A start, if nothing else.

“I feel that you’re… labouring under some misunderstandings. About my motivations, about what your situation is here. Am I correct in thinking that you think I want to hurt you?”

She didn’t say anything, but the look on her face was answer enough.

I sighed again. “Understand this: If I wanted to hurt you, Sydney, to actually hurt you, not just spank you because you have a nice ass or whatever, I would hurt you. Period. I wouldn’t dance around it, I wouldn’t justify with an excuse, you would simply be in pain. But you’re not in pain, because I don’t want to hurt you. Quite simply, I don’t care about you enough to want to hurt you.”

I settled back into my chair. “Miranda was right, before. To me, both you and the others… really aren’t humans, aren’t people. You’re… subhuman, maybe. I understand you are living, thinking beings with emotions and interests, of course, but I don’t care about any of those things, not really. You’re simply not worthy of that consideration. At best, they are a way for me to manage you.”

I paused, remembering the break down not too long ago, before adding, “I feel this should be obvious, but I’ll say it anyways: Miranda, of course, is different. Miranda is special.”

On my leg, she smiled gently at my validation, and I kept going now that I was sure I hadn’t worried her.

“Amber and Mia, to me, are… Miranda’s pets, probably. I care about her, and she cares about them, so by extension I care in a general sense about their needs and welfare, even if I don’t personally think much about them. Because of that status as ‘beloved pets’, they get steady food supplies, a place to sleep, and freedom to run about the house… the kinds of things a dog or cat would have, basically. But you’re different.”

I had continued tapping my fingers the entire time, so Sydney was utterly unprepared for my hand to open and grab her, before lifting her into the air to face me. It was the gentlest I had been in handling her, ever, a fact she clearly noticed by the surprise on her face.

“To me, Sydney, you are an animal. An incredibly attractive, intelligent animal, but an inferior being nevertheless. However, you aren’t a pet, and you don’t have the rights a pet would have. In my mind, I owe you nothing beyond simply not leaving you to starve.”

I paused. “That, however, can be changed.”

As I spoke, I deliberately lifted my other hand into the air, index finger extended, so that everyone could see it. Slowly, I touched Sydney’s leg, and began to run my fingertip up it.

“What you don’t understand is that to me, pain is a tool. You do something I don’t like, so I hurt you. You stop doing it, I stop hurting you. Bad behavior is punished, as simple as that.”

My finger ran up her hip, curled around it, gliding just over the space between her legs for a moment before continuing up to her belly.

“There’s no… resentment involved at all, it’s just like flicking a switch to me: pain on, pain off. At the same time, though, pleasure is also a tool at my disposal. Obedience, you see, should be rewarded just as disobedience is punished.”

My finger crested her breast, brushing against her hardened nipple for a instant, before lowering again.

“And thankfully, with a Min, that is oh so easy. After all, you’re all so very…”

I brought her right next to my mouth as I spoke, my breath heavy against her chest. “…Sensitive.”

Sydney shuddered in my hands, and for the first time it wasn’t from mind numbing terror.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” I whispered to her, “That a Min is nothing more than putty once they’re in someone’s hands.”

She shook again, biting her lip as I gently set her back on my lap, finger now making slow circles on her calf.

“I wasn’t lying, before. I’m sure you didn’t believe me at the time, but I meant it.”

I could see the confusion in her eyes, and I answered her unspoken question: “‘If you want to be happy, you need to keep Miranda happy.’ You’ll find that I’m very literal. I have absolutely no problems keeping you dumb and happy on orgasms and full body massages, as long as she’s fine with it. I’d enjoy it, even; you really are a pretty little thing, after all. Of course, if she wants you unhappy…”

I trailed off meaningfully as I removed my hands, and the aroused blush on her checks faded instantly as my meaning sank in. “I have no problems keeping you writhing in pain, either.”

I shrugged. “Hell, that might even be its own kind of fun for me. Thankfully for you, Miranda doesn’t seem to want that, so you’re probably safe. She wants to prove her superiority, yes, but that doesn’t always have to be a cruel thing. If you accept your inferiority to her, truly accept it instead of playing at it to try and appease her, I imagine your time here will be far more pleasant than it has been.”

I glanced at Miranda, and grinned at the smug smile I saw on her face.

I pinched Sydney’s ass, just hard enough to hurt, then soothingly rubbed the abused area before she could make anything other than a discontent murmur in response. “Pain and pleasure, Sydney, are the two tools I intend to use to train you, to shape you, into exactly what I want you to be: a creature made for Miranda’s enjoyment. The thing is, that shaping can come in different ways. Defy me, resist the change, and things will be unpleasant for you. Obey me, embrace the changes… and you could find yourself quite the spoiled lap pet.”

By now she was looking up at me, all fear gone, almost mesmerized by my simple kindness. I went in for the kill.

“You think you don’t have a place here, Sydney, but you’re wrong. You have a place; you just need to decide what that place will be. Do you want it to be a place of misery, being trampled under Miranda’s feet for her amusement like the vermin you are? Or a place of joy, sitting in her lap, gratefully accepting her affection and grace like a good pet should?”

Are we having fun yet?

“Wait.” Miranda said suddenly, and I froze.

“You… you can keep doing that, if you want,” she continued, sounding embarrassed and pleased all at once. “Petting me- Petting my hair, I mean.”

And then, softer: “It feels nice.”

It was, of course, an invitation I could not possibly refuse, and I had to take pains to stroke her at the same pace as I had before, rather than anything more enthusiastic, and resist the urge to do anything more than brush at what her hair covered.

For a few enjoyable minutes, I simply relished the feel of Miranda against my finger and body, and the peaceful time we spent together, letting her recover from her outburst from before.

Eventually, though, I spoke up.

“You know,” I mused, “I’m almost insulted.”

On my leg, Miranda’s body tensed up, but as I continued to calmly pet her hair without reacting she slowly relaxed.

“I mean, let’s be honest here. After we’ve come this far, after all this, the fact that you’d think that I’ll just… lose interest in you is frankly ludicrous to me. Our relationship here is founded on our agreement, right?”

I paused, and once she realized I was waiting for a response, Miranda nodded silently.

“I know you’re not stupid, Miranda, I can’t believe you really think that agreement actually means anything. Ignoring how worthless a verbal contract is… the idea of making an agreement with a Min at all is a joke. Assuming we found someone willing to write it out, we could have signed a contract, and if I had taken your friends at the DMC after I had signed the paperwork no one would have so much as blinked. Hell, even if I had ‘sampled the wares’ beforehand I doubt anyone would have cared. So the agreement is complete garbage unless you trust me to keep to its terms without anything to force me to do so. Unless you trust me to treat you like a person.”

I stopped again, trying to gather my words. Somehow Miranda seemed to sense this and remained quiet, simply leaning into my hand as it stroked her rhythmically.

“You could excuse it as a fig leaf justification, I suppose, but even if we did, what was it you said? ‘Kept you in a birdcage to sing’? Even if I had done that much, I’m sure you know better than I would how much of an improvement that would be. Expecting more would be unrealistic at best, and what I promised you would be a fever dream to anyone else. At yet you asked, and I delivered, again and again and again. The adoption itself, the clothes, the Min house… all of them are big, but compared by the authority you keeping reaching for, that I keep giving you, that is nothing. Plenty of rich people spoil their Mins, right? It’s like keeping your dog happy or something: you don’t want to see them miserable, but you wouldn’t let that dog decide to adopt another dog, would you? All that I’ve given you, all that I’ve done for you, and you think that tomorrow I’ll just throw you aside like trash…”

I sighed. “I know you’ve been in a bad place, but it honestly hurts, Miranda.”

There was another pause, this time on Miranda’s end as she considered my words. She didn’t make any motion to stop me, so I was content to sit and wait, petting her until she was ready to say her piece.

“You say that Ian,” she began carefully, “But I still don’t understand what it is you want exactly, from me, from adopting me, from…”

Miranda hesitated briefly. “From this relationship. From us having a relationship at all, as anything more than Master and Min. If you just wanted my body, you’ve had your chance. You’ve had it for days now. If you just wanted me to give it to you willingly, instead of by force, well… I’m sure you could have made that happen as well.”

I sighed. “I keep telling you this, but you never seem to understand.”

I shifted in my seat, bringing Miranda to my chest and wrapping my arms around her, as tightly as I dared.

“I want you, Miranda. All of you. I want to hold you in my arms, I want to see you when I wake up in the morning, and before I go to sleep. I want to watch movies with you, and share meals at the table with you. I us to talk, and share jokes. And while you may be right, in that I want something more physical as well, and I’d be lying if I was tempted to simply take it…”

I trailed off. “I don’t want it by force, or by blackmail. I want it, you, willingly. Truly willingly, not because I’m holding something hostage, or that you’re too afraid to say no. Not just a simple physical relationship, but an intimate one. I want you to be happy, Miranda, and I want you to be happy with me. As happy as me, that the two us are together like this, forever.”

“Y-you, you want alot, Ian.” She was stammering, but it wasn’t from fear, or nervousness.

“I know.” I agreed. “It’s worth all the work I’ve put in, and more.”

“What you’re asking for… that could take a long time to achieve, Ian. Years, maybe.” Miranda continued.

“I’m aware.”

“It may never happen.” She insisted, sounding almost incredulous now. “I could just live here and treat you as an opportunistic bastard until the day I die.”

“Obviously.”

I was still shocked how well we getting along now, actually. Even with everything happening, I had expected her resentment of me to far outweigh whatever benefits she could get from cooperation with me in her mind for quite awhile.

And then she asked me the question again, the same question from the first day, just as confused then as she was now. But this time, there was another emotion present as well, one that she tried, and failed to hide.

“Why?” Miranda sniffled, utterly confused, and yet still filled with hope.

For a brief second I squeezed her tighter. “Do I need a better reason than love?”

And for a second time today, Miranda cried. I said nothing, did nothing, beyond holding her, and letting her tire herself out. Eventually, she stopped and sniffled, trying to regain her composure.

“You know what, Ian?” She asked me eventually.

“What?”

“There’s something you forgot.” Miranda said, sounding suddenly mischievous. “And I’ve been wondering if I should bring it up.”

“There is?”

I couldn’t think of anything, but Miranda simply giggled a little at the confusion in my voice.

“I don’t want you to touch Amber or Mia. I’m not ready for you do anything with me than this, not yet anyways.”

I froze at that, and she laughed again.

“But not once have I said that Sydney is afforded the same protection. In fact, I think I would quite like to see you have some fun with her.”

I could almost see the grin grow on her face. “Tell you what, Ian: why don’t I lend her to you for the night?”

You know, I was planning on getting somewhere juicy, but these two kept emoting over all my plans. Shorter than I’d like, Shorter than I’d like, but I decided I wanted to keep this fluffy, instead of mixing it with anything else. Next chapter, I guess.

And yes, Amber is still there, and is feeling very awkward about that fact. Ian simply isn’t bothering to think about her existence.

Miranda rubbed the fabric between her fingers pensively for a few more moments before looking up at me.

“Ian…” she began, only to trail off as she looked at me. Like before, I got the impression she was looking for something on my expression, though I still wasn’t sure what.

“Ian… we would like to put on our clothes. Would you please turn away so we could have some privacy?”

I lifted an eyebrow before asking, “Why?”

I would be the first to admit that I had been looking forward to seeing the spectacle of not only Miranda, but Amber and Mia as well, dress; just seeing them in their underwear alone would be more than worth the price I had paid to obtain them, but as always it was more complicated than just what I wanted.

There was a time not too long ago where I would have done what she asked without question, but there was also time even less long ago where I would have simply said ‘No’ just because I could. More than than the constant confusion of our relationship, though, there was an even more valid point of contention.

“It’s not like like you’re undressing or anything: you’re already naked. You’ve been naked the entire time. I literally have never seen the others with clothes on, ever.”

Miranda visibly hesitated, but didn’t back down before my question.

“Because… because I’m asking you. Because I’m asking you to do this, for me, as a favor.” She licked her lips nervously. “Because I’m hoping that, even now, you’ll respect my opinion enough to do this, even though you have every right to ignore me, and there’s no way for me to stop you. So please Ian. Please.”

It was a low blow. Even now, after all the twists and turns we’d been though, all the frustration she’d caused me, the fact that a simple, heartfelt ‘Please’ could hit me like that was cheating. I wanted her. I was promised her, by her, no less.

But in the end, I just couldn’t tell her no.

“Fine.” I said, more than a little bitterly, though the entire table noticeably cheered at my response. “Fine. For you, Miranda.”

She smiled. “Maybe you could… wait over at the couch, until we’re done?” She was more confident in her request this time, either at the fact that it would actually be listened to, or that she wouldn’t be punished for asking.

“We can all meet you there afterwards. I think we need to have a talk.” Miranda paused, and looked meaningfully at Sydney, who was still doing her best to hide behind people a fraction of her size.

“All of us. And it might go better if we were in a more… relaxed setting than this.”

That was actually a decent point. I was trying to establish more of a relationship with Miranda, one more than just enemies or of pet and owner, and my standing over them as they stood on the table probably wasn’t the most reassuring stance for them.

“That seems reasonable.” I answered after a moment. “I’ll go turn something on while I wait.”

It was a more undignified exit than I would have liked, and I barely resisted the urge to stomp a little as I left. Flopping onto the couch with a sigh, I turned on the television, mindlessly flipping through the channels before I landed on one of those gimmicky cooking shows.

Usually, I enjoyed the spectacle of watching Mins, once professional chefs, struggle and more often than not fail to perform tasks as simple as mixing a bowl, but today, their antics left a bad taste in my mouth. Clicking my tongue in irritation, I turned the the TV off again, and glanced down only to realize I had gained an audience at some point.

I may have actually drooled.

The dress hugged Miranda’s torso like it was painted on, with a neckline so low that her breasts were more outlined by the dress than concealed by it, and from the side it was cut so high that, from any other viewpoint than above, I was sure I could gotten a good look at her panties. A leg, magnificently highlighted in all it’s long, yet paradoxically short glory by black stockings, struck out from that gap assertively, matching the cocky grin she wore as she gazed up at my dumb expression.

It was gorgeous. She was gorgeous.

And she knew it.

“Holy shit.” I said.

I fumbled for more words, and failed to find any.

I settled on, “Holy shit”, eventually, with what I felt was not nearly enough emphasis for the reality of the situation.

Miranda laughed a sweet, bell-like laugh.

“Ah, Ian, you do know how to make a girl feel appreciated, don’t you?”

I opened my mouth, decided repeating myself a third time probably wasn’t going to help, and closed it again.

She laughed even harder.

“Would you mind being a gentleman and giving us a lift? It’s hard to talk to you from all the way down here.”

Oh, right. The others were there too. I glanced at them briefly, and while the outfits did cling to them like a second skin, and while the boots did like awfully nice on them, my eyes slide their way back to Miranda in no time at all.

She noticed, and her smug smile grew larger at the realization of how much of my attention she had.

I cleared my throat before making a mock bow, bending low in my chair so I could lower my hand down to her level.

“My lady,” I said, in what was meant to be a teasing tone, but came out far more serious than I had planned. “Your ride awaits.”

Miranda curseyed, still grinning, before walking primly toward my hand and sitting on it as if it was a bench, folding one leg over the other as she did so, in a way that just so happened to hike her dress up even higher.

I’d felt that very same ass multiple times over the last few days, without any fabric separating it from my skin, yet somehow, something made the its touch on the palm of my hand far more erotic than it ever had been before: the outfit, maybe, how teased but still concealed, or the newfound confidence Miranda wore with her dress, or maybe the situation itself, the intimacy of it, as if we were lovers on a date rather than something as brutish and simple as groping or copping a feel.

I didn’t know, and I didn’t care, as long as it kept happening.

I lifted my hand, and the tiny, spectacular creature sitting upon it, slowly up into the air as I straightened up, before bringing it hovering just over the arm of my chair. Daintly, Miranda stepped onto the fake leather, before rearranging her dress and settling down on the edge, high heeled feet dangled out over my leg.

I stared at her a moment before she coughed politely. “And everyone else…?”

“Ah.”

Miranda giggled again as I bent over, taking pains to avoid knocking her over as I did so. For Amber and Mia, I lowered my hand again so they could climb on it, and if it wasn’t quite as flat or the ride as smooth as it had been for Miranda, they only had to look over at how I grabbed Sydney, pinning her arms in place, to stop themselves from voicing any complaints.

The smaller Mins I placed on the same arm as Miranda: they sat by her side, dwarfed by her in both size and beauty. Interestingly, I watched Miranda reach down to gently stroke Amber’s head, and how the woman leaned into her touch, while Mia look on in both envy and contempt.

Clearly, at some point that relationship must have changed.

Sydney, on the other hand, I placed face down on my leg, pressed up against the other arm of the chair, pinned in place by the elbow I sat on her back. She whimpered, once, as I did so, but bad no move to try and escape.

Miranda watched me do so, and her expression cooled somewhat in the process.

“Ian. I’ve realized that we need to… discuss some things. About Sydney, mostly,” and here the woman in question flinched, as if she was struck, “But also about you.”

Reaching down, she plucked Amber off of the chair and cuddled the Min to her chest, as if she was child hugging a teddy bear.

“I don’t like Sydney, Ian” Miranda began frankly. “I never have. I want her to bow and scape at my feet. I want her to cower at my displeasure, I want use her, and I want to rule her… but I don’t want to kill her. I don’t want to maim her, or even torture her. She’s a bitch, yes, but she doesn’t deserve that.”

She paused, squeezing the woman in her arms tighter, seeking comfort from the warm little form she held, before continuing.

“I heard you, in the other room, with Sydney. We all did. And I know you did it to protect me, and believe me, Ian, I very much appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I feel there are some basic realities of being a Min that you don’t quite understand.”

Miranda adjusted Amber in her grip, resting the Min in her arm and against her breast, before gesturing at me.

“To a Min, a normal person isn’t a ‘person’ anymore Ian. Think about it. Your finger is as tall as these two. You pick any of us up, one handed, and barely notice. If you stepped on one of us accidently? We would be crushed. When you look at a person, there’s an implicit understand that, largely, both you and them are equals. Even a small woman has a chance to defend herself against a tall man, after all.”

Miranda laughed, bitterly. “There are no equals here, Ian. What can I do to resist you? What can any of us do to resist you? Sydney is, without a doubt, the largest Min I’ve seen in my life, the largest Min I’ve ever heard of, and look at her! You’re not doing anything, and she can’t even move! Does something able to do that sound like a person to you? Or a human being?”

She sighed. “You are not a human to us, Ian. You are a force of nature, a god: something that can’t be stopped, can’t be fought, can’t be resisted in any way, only avoided or appeased. You are a god, Ian Hunter, and you are a terrible one, a cold, cruel creature whispered about in the dark of night, a Min’s nightmare. You adore me, and treasure me, but it is only me that you extend these feelings towards, it is only me that you would protect, and no one here doubts that you would kill them without remorse if I wasn’t here to stop you. You wouldn’t relish in it, but you wouldn’t feel sorry, either, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, and blinking away tears, Miranda curled up on the chair, tucking Amber under her head. I didn’t, couldn’t, say anything, and after a moment she continued.

“Mins live in a world filled with gods, a world for gods, with tools and objects beyond us petty mortals. We live in a world where we are loathed by those who hold absolute power over us, who consider us, rightfully, as less than people, less than Them. We live in fear that today is the day some god or another may decide that today is the day we shall be hurt for their amusement, played with as toys… or worse. We pray that today is the day a god might look down on us and find us worthy of some absent, backhanded generosity, the gift of crumbs instead of going hungry, the mercy of being felt up with a gentle finger instead of being clenched in a tight fist.”

Miranda was crying, now, and I was afraid moving would only make things worse, would drive her away, so all I could do was watch as the woman I loved broke down next to me.

“We are afraid, Ian. We are afraid, always afraid, of anyone we see. The fact you exist is a threat to us, Ian, to any Min, and the way you act, the way you look at us, so distant and uncaring? It’s fucking terrifying. Sharks are supposed to look at people like that. You look at me, and it’s so… kind, and warm, and filled with so many emotions, but I wonder, sometimes-”

She stopped. Shivered. “Sometimes… sometimes I look up at you, and wonder if I’ll see anything looking back at me, if it’ll be as flat and as empty as the way you look the others, if you’ll stop-”

As Miranda talked, her voice had grown more and more frantic, before I spoke over her with one simple word.

“NO.” I said, trying to drive away her terror with the sheer determination in my voice. She froze and looked at me, wide eyed, as I continued to talk.

“No. Not you, Miranda. Not you, never you.”

Slowly, inch by pain stacking inch, I lifted up my hand and brought it towards her, as she stared at it with all the unreasoning terror of a cornered animal.

“You are special to me, Miranda,” I continued, lowering my voice, trying to make it soothing and gentle, “You’ve always been special to me.”

The hand continued to approach, and still she didn’t move. In her arms, Amber gazed out towards it with dread, unable to escape Miranda’s grip.

“Always.”

My hand closed around her, and Miranda started at the contact, her eyes suddenly focusing.

“You will never be like the others.”

As she was lifted into the air, my other arm, just as slowly, rose from its living rest. Ever so gently, a finger wiped away her tears.

So. As it turns out, blatantly giving no shits if someone lives or dies is scary, especially if they depend on you for everything. Who’d thunk? Not Ian, that’s for sure.

Anyways, hope this doesn’t disappoint.

As Miranda took in her one time rival’s suffering, drinking it in like a fine wine, an idea occurred to me. She was clearly on a roll, and I didn’t want to interrupt her when she was having so much fun, but it would be the cherry on top of this little scene.

“You know Miranda,” I said, ignoring the dirty look she threw me, “I had actually gotten you something I meant to give to you yesterday, before I got distracted.”

“Oh?” The annoyance had faded somewhat from her expression, to be replaced by a somewhat skeptical interest. “Another present for me?”

I nodded. “You, and the others, if you want.”

That earned me a raised eyebrow. “Really?”

“Tell you what: why don’t I get them, and we’ll see what you think?”

I rose from my chair, and as I did, everyone on the table flinched at the sudden motion, Miranda taking a step as I loomed over her, a hand reaching out.

“Do you mind if I borrow your toy really quick?” I asked as I grabbed Sydney’s ankle. She yelped, but we both ignored her. “Maybe give her a little tour of the house?”

As if I cared about that. I just wasn’t prepared to leave the two of them alone quite yet, and maybe she felt the same, because a relieved little smile appeared on her face as I began to pull the larger woman towards me, her fingers impotently trying to hold onto the wood.

“Of course, Ian,” Miranda smirked. “Go ahead and show her a good time.”

I had been taking her anyways, but it was important for me to at least pretend to have her permission, to better hammer the facts into Sydney’s head. With it obtained, I stopped my slow pull and yanked sharply, sending Sydney screaming off the edge of the table, with only my hold on her ankle stopping her from falling head first to the floor. I lifted the thrashing Min higher into the air for Miranda to see, and when she giggled Sydney froze, seeming to realize what would happened if her struggles freed her from my grasp.

Of course, then I began to walk across the house, making sure to swing her back and forth with every step. By the time I reached the closet and opened it, Sydney had gone silent in my grasp, and had curled up as much as she could while hanging upside down. Casually, I tossed her up into the air, my hand snatching her before she could fall.

“Alright, listen up.” I said to the shrieking Min in my hand. I wanted to have another little talk with her, away from the others. I hadn’t exactly paid attention to them when I had gotten physical with Sydney, but I could imagine watching a woman far larger than them being casually abused by someone far bigger than even her would be alarming. I wasn’t planning on being as nice as I had been earlier, and I didn’t want to traumatize Miranda.

“The time will come when I leave you and Miranda in a room together without any supervision. When that time comes, you may get… ideas. You’re bigger, after all, and it would be easy for you to push her around. Like old times.”

I smiled, and Sydney froze.

“Maybe if you hurt her enough, she might be too afraid to tell me what you did! Just bully her, and the natural order will be restored, right? After all, she’s too weak to stop you.” Sydney had grown pale as I spoke, and I dropped the ill fitting expression from my face. Somehow, it didn’t seem to reassure her. “I want you remember this when the time comes.”

Slowly I reached out with my other hand and closed it around her arm and began to squeeze. “If you hurt Miranda I will rip your limbs off.”

I leaned in closer to her with a hiss, my hand squeezing tighter. “Then I will make you eat them. And I will make sure that you finish every. Single. Bite.”

I squeezed even tighter on her arm for emphasis as I spoke. In my hand Sydney was gasping in pain, trying to yank her arm away from me, but I merely increased the pressure even more as she fought me.

“And even then, I won’t allow your suffering to simply end. I will keep you alive, miserable and covered in your own filth, as long as I can. I will have the other Mins shovel Min chow and water into your mouth as you cry, begging for the salvation of death which you will be denied. I want you to remember this: no matter what Miranda does to you, no matter what humiliation she will inflict, no matter what she wants you to do, I can, and will, do worse. I’m not protecting Miranda from you, Miranda is protecting you from me. Do we have an understanding?”

I waited a moment, but when all she did was keep mindlessly pulling at her arm, I adjusted my grip, placing the edge of my thumb nail just under her shoulder.

She froze. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You do not want me think that you’re confused about this. Do we. Have. An understanding?”

“Yes.” She said softly, shaking in my grip.

“What was that?” I asked sternly. “I need you to speak up.”

“Yes!” Sydney babbled. “Yes yes yes yes sir I understand you Master please Master don’t hurt me anymore please I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m-”

I interrupted her. “Good. Good! I’m glad we could clear the air.”

I released her arm, and Sydney grabbed at her now red flesh with a sob, flinching as I pat her head with a finger. “Do me a favor: don’t mention this conversation to anyone, alright? We wouldn’t want to scare Miranda, after all.”

The Min nodded franticlly and I laughed. “I’m glad to hear that. Remember, if you want to be happy, you need to keep Miranda happy.”

Putting her out my mind for the moment, I I grabbed the box from the shelf I had left it on and began walking back to the table, blinking at how it had changed. At some point Amber and Mia had left the edge of the table to approach Miranda, who was now knelt down over them, holding them in her arms protectively, all three of them looking up at me with blank expressions on their faces.

Ah. They had heard the conversation from before. I probably should have been quieter.

I dropped Sydney on the table, trying to ignore how they jolted at my movement, and more gently placed the box on the table next to her. The second she left my hand the Min scrambled her feet and ran behind the others on the table, huddling down as much as she could, if their tiny forms would protect her.

Tellingly, none of the other Mins so much as blinked as they left their backs exposed to their former tormentor.

“Tell me, Miranda,” I said, avoiding any mention about what had just happened as I opened the box, “How do you feel about a dress?”

Her jaw dropped as I reached in and pulled out a wine red cocktail dress the size of my palm from where it had carefully laid, letting it flutter down onto the table in front of her.

Miranda dropped her friends, but they didn’t even protest, just as amazed as her by the piece of clothing I had presented them. Mia reached out to feel touch at its hem before Miranda picked up the garment with trembling hands and lifted it from the table top.

Moments later, I reached back in and retrieved a baggie with a tiny pair of stiletto heel shoes and some equally sized undergarments.

“Or maybe some shoes?”, I added rhetorically.

“What?” Miranda stared at the dress, whatever terror I had caused forgotten as she lifted the fabric, seeming almost afraid it would vanish from her hands if she wasn’t careful. “Ian… how?”

I shrugged. “I ordered it, obviously.”

Clothing for a Min was luxury, one too expensive to be afforded to the ones kept in the Kennel. Outside of it, however, there was a booming industry in Min clothing, either for giving loved one some illusion of propriety, or more commonly to make an attractive toy even more so. There was also a not insignificant portion of the market devoted bondage apparel.

Doll dresses, unlike what you saw on TV, didn’t fit the body of a real Min, and were unpleasant besides, sometimes even causing an unattractive rash on that impossibly soft skin. Even if an owner didn’t care who their Mins felt when they wore an outfit, something that ruined their appeal like that was unacceptable. Real Min clothing was made to order, since each Min had their own proportions, and was designed to feel as pleasant as possible on the delicate, extremely sensitive skin of a Min. All of that, of course, made each garment far more expensive than their size would have suggested to the ignorant.

I was more than willing to spend some money for the sole purpose of spoiling Miranda.

When the DMC had contacted me, they had given me all the Min’s measurements, and one of the first things I had done was order some outfits, to arrive as soon as possible, while making a second, larger order that would arrive at some later point. Even then, they had barely arrived a day before I picked up Miranda.

There were a couple more outfits in the box for her I’d bring out later… and a few more that she would probably not be quite as happy about, but I would want her to wear eventually. For now, though, I ignored them, and pulled out some crop tops and shorts in basic black, and set them on the table as well. For a moment Miranda puzzled at them, obviously too small for her to wear, before it clicked in her mind who they were meant for.

Amber was the one who spoke next. “For us? You got clothes for us?”

I shrugged again. “Sure, why not? I didn’t know what you looked like, so I got you a few things in black. It works with everyone, right?”

They stared at me, all of them, only to change focus to the knee high boots I dropped in front of them.

Min clothing trended more towards skimpy than covering as a whole, and I wasn’t willing to spend more on them for a more ‘normal’ outfit, so the boots were sleek, shiny high heeled things, made more to be sexy than practical. Besides, I was a man after all. I enjoyed watching women strut around in high heels, so sue me.

Still, when the little Mins picked them up, they held them as if they were the most precious things they had ever seen.

I wasn’t crazy about spending money on the two of them, but they did serve a higher purpose than just making them nicer to look at: they were, like so many other things I gave or allowed them, luxuries. Luxuries to make Miranda think that much better of me.

Luxuries I could take away from them, if need be.

And now, a luxury that Sydney was denied, but everyone else was allowed, a reminder of her place.

At that thought I looked up to check on the larger Min. I expected her to be staring at the others with envy, or maybe resentment. Instead she was staring at me, wide eyed and shaking.

I hoping to have the next part out soon, but I’m having some block on what exactly happens next, which is holding up the works.

Well, that and I’m still having computer problems my computer died, but I’m working around that.

Or rather, Amber and Mia were waiting patiently as they knelt, still playing the role of the dutiful toys. Miranda, on the other hand, had apparently been pacing, and froze at my entrance, staring at me and the carrier I was holding with a frightening intensity.

Her gaze held until I approached the table and set Sydney’s carrier down with deliberate care, and at that instant it switch to focusing on the case entirely.

“I can’t believe it.” Miranda muttered, beginning to circle the case, “You actully did it.”

I ignored her appraisal and began to unlock the carrier’s door; at the sound of the latch Miranda startled, stepping back slightly before returning her gaze to me. Silently, I gestured in front of the door, so that she’d be the first thing Sydney saw when she exited into my house for the first time. Miranda made a face, but obediently stepped into place.

Getting Sydney, I knew, was something of a risk for Miranda long term; not matter how easy it was for me to overpower her, it would be almost as easy for Sydney to overpower Miranda in turn.

I wouldn’t let the Min hurt her, of course, but it wasn’t like I was going to be around to protect her 24/7, either. Locking her up when I left would help, but that wasn’t an ideal solution, since all I had to do was not be in the room at the time, or even looking, for her to be safe to act.

Therefore, I had to make sure that Sydney wouldn’t even dream of overstepping her privileges in my house, and a suitably impressive first meeting would help make that become a reality.

Quietly, I opened the door and let the new Min out; it took her a minute, since her fit in the carrier was worse than even Miranda’s had been, but she eventually managed to crawl her way out onto the table, only to presented with the sight of Miranda standing proudly before her, a hand on her hip, and a confident grin on her face.

“Hello, Sydney.”

There was a pause as the two of them stared at the other.

“Miranda?” Sydney said incredulously. “What the hell are you-”

She began to get up, but before she could get anywhere my hand closed around her head, and part of her shoulders, before slamming her down onto the table.

“Shut up.” I spat.

There was a brief struggle under my palm before she realized what had happened and gave up.

“I- I what’d I-” Sydney began, only to stop I tightened my grip on her skull.

I leaned down and hissed into her ear. “I said shut up. If you understand, then listen to me and stop making noises, am I clear?”

I waited, and she proceeded to to say anything, so I loosened my hold on her slightly.

“Good girl. Now, listen to me, I want to make something excruciatingly clear about your new situation. Are you ready?”

I let go of her head and she sighed with relief, only to freeze as I looped my finger through her long hair.

“First things first: on your knees.”

“But I-”

I lifted my finger, yanking her hair up and causing her to yelp. Sydney started to rise in an attempt to decrease the pain, but I flicked a finger from my free hand at the back of her leg, sending her back down to the table top.

“On your knees.”

At my snarl, she dropped so fast that I could hear the sound of her knees hitting the wood; wrenched up by her hair, the face that stared into mine had paled dramatically.

“Better.” At my calmer voice, Sydney relaxed infinitesimally.

“Your first lesson, apparently,” she flinched at the emphasis I put on the word, “Has to be this: disobedience will not be tolerated.”

I paused, giving her a chance to protest, argue, fight me: anything to give me another excuse to punish her again.

When she didn’t say anything, I smiled thinly. “So you can be taught. Good. As I was saying, I will not tolerate disobedience from you. You see, there’s a very simple hierarchy here, and as long as you follow it, your life can be pleasant. If you don’t…”

I trailed off leading, and she gulped, the movement of her throat easily noticed with how exposed it was.

“I am at the top of it, obviously. Next is Miranda.”

I relaxed the tension I was putting on her hair, allowing Sydney’s face to lower and face Miranda. Her cocky look had faded, to be replaced by an excited grin so wide it probably hurt.

“Then there’s Amber, and then Mia.” I assumed they had met at some point, considering their mutual history with Miranda, so I didn’t bother to point them out.

“And then there’s Daisy, that spider in the corner of the garage that has been living there for three months now.”

I heard a quiet snort in front of me at that, but I was focusing my attention on Sydney once more, watching her face drop the more I talked.

“And then there’s you, Sydney: the absolute bottom of the barrel. You may think you’re big, but in this house you are nothing, just a bug so pathetic that even one of them,” I gestured condescendingly at the corner of the table where Amber and Mia were staring wide eyed at the proceedings, “Could step on you and not even notice: that is how little you mean to me. If you hurt one of them? I will be very annoyed with you. If I hear you so much as look at Miranda wrong I will be absolutely livid.”

I yanked her hair back again, and she squealed in pain, straightening as much as she dared but staying on her knees.

“You never asked why I picked you, Sydney.” And by now she must have been regretting that oversight, but it was far too late for that. “I think it’s time I tell you your new role here.”

I pulled my finger back another inch, before relenting and releasing the pressure, allowing her to relax with a relieved sigh.

“I picked you out as a toy, Sydney, but not for me. You’re a present.”

Deliberately, I pointed forward towards Miranda.

“Do you see her there, in front of you? I may own her, but she owns you. Miranda is the one that will determine how you will be treated, whether you get food with the rest of them or slop, if you get locked up or get to roam free, if you are rewarded or punished. Do you understand me?”

Sydney nodded as much as she could against my grip on her hair, tears leaking down her cheeks.

“That’s not enough, I want you to say it. Let your new owner hear you say you understand what your role is now.”

I released her hair completely and removed my hand, leaving the two of them alone at the center of the table.

“I- I understand, Master,” Sydney whimpered, looking up my face and shuddering before turning back to face in front once again, head bowed. “I… I am jus-”

“No.” Miranda interrupted. “Not like that, Sydney.”

The large Min’s head rose, allowing her to take in the ecstatic expression her new tormentor wore.

“All the way down, Sydney.” Miranda crooned. “I want you all the way down.”

She made a wordless mewl of terror before complying, kneeling deeply until her head hit the wood.

Miranda stalked forward until she stood just in front of the other woman. She took in the sight of her, the way her body trembled, and what I thought were quiet, muffled sobs, and then sighed in contentment as she turned and sat on Sydney’s head.

She jerked at that, jostling Miranda causing her to frown, reaching down to yank at a handful of hair.

“Don’t do that.” She scolded angrily. “If I’m using you as my seat, then you better not move.”

Moving back until she straddled Sydney’s neck, Miranda grabbed another clump of hair, pulling them both as if to test their strength. Beneath her, Sydney flinched but didn’t move, and Miranda nodded to herself.

Then she began to grind her crotch against her new mount, yanking at the ‘reins’ in her hands as her back arched, causing a squeak of pain before Miranda relaxed with a satisfied sigh.

“Oh, this is nice. Now, Sydney: don’t you have something to say?”

“Y-yes.” The Min whimpered. “I- I am a toy. A g-gift, from Master, to you, Mir-”

Sydney cut herself off, quicking changing her words. “-Mistress Miranda, to be your toy, and to be used for your pleasure and entertainment.”

“Good, good.” Miranda murmured, patting the head in front of her. “That’s exactly right.”

“Can I take it that you’re satisfied, then?” I asked, amused.

Miranda let go of the long strands and leaned back against Sydney so she could look up at me, upside down, from her new spot.

“Oh yes, Ian, this is wonderful, thank you so much!”

“Excellent. Then there’s one last thing to do.”

I turned my attention back to the carrier and opened a small compartment at the top of the case, taking out the object inside and holding it out to Miranda.

“Would you like to to do the honors?”

When a Min was given to someone, along with a case to carry them around in safely, the DMC also issued a small black collar. The collar contained a chip that would allow the Min to be more easily identified, which was the official explanation for them. The unofficial but equally relevant reason was that they were, of course, also a mark of ownership, which is part of the reason I never bother to take them out before: I wasn’t ready, or allowing myself, to make such an obvious claim.

Sydney, of course, was a different story

Miranda looked down at the round object in my hand, large enough that she could wear it like a necklace, even if had been closed, and squealed. Either at the sound, or some other stimulus, Sydney shifted under her uncomfortably.

“Really, Ian? Can I?!”

I smiled. “Of course. I got her for you, after all.”

Jumping up from her seat, Miranda grabbed the collar before running back to her earlier place in front of the larger Min.

“Up!” She commanded sharply, and dutifully Sydney lifted herself to her hands and knees, only to freeze as she took in what Miranda had in her hands, eyes wide and frightened.

“Now hold still, Sydney.” Miranda said. “This should only take a minute.”

A smile on her face, she closed the collar around the other woman’s neck with a loud, final, ‘click’.

As if the sound was a signal Sydney began to cry, silent tears dropping down to bead against the table.

The real reason all the Mins in the story have long hair comes out! It’s easier to pull that way.

Well, that, and they don’t get regular haircuts.

Instead, when I called the DMC, I had an appointment made for an hour later.

As it turned out, Sydney was on a list of Mins with that, by default, accepted anyone interested in her as a potential host. Since I was already in the system at this point, all we needed was that one meeting, and, if she agreed, I could walk out with her.

Miranda only snorted when I explained this to her, looking amused at my ignorance from her lofty position atop the left armrest, sitting just in front of my hand. My agreement to help her get revenge had helped her relax around me, somewhat. There was still a wary look in her eye when she saw me, but she seemed willing to have an actual conversation with me now.

“Of course she’s on the list, Ian: everyone I’ve ever met there was on the list. Hell, I was on the list.”

I didn’t say anything, absently watching her little legs as they dangled in the air, but Miranda glanced at my face and continued to explain, her tone serious now. “No one wants to be there, Ian, and when you Min, you feel… abandoned. The world hates you, your friends and family give up on you, and you’re left in the Kennel to rot. Everyone has heard a story of someone whos ends up living in a bird cage or something, just a living decoration for their Master to enjoy, but even so most would take that, because at least then they’re wanted. Someone looked at hundreds or thousands of Mins crawling around their feet and picked you out, out of all them clamoring for attention; and maybe it’s because you’re blond, or you have big boobs, or a nice voice, and sure, maybe you end up spending your days on that perch, singing sweet songs and being fed table scraps, but at least it’s you doing it, at least you are the one worthy enough to get even that much. Even if he looks at you like a toy, well…”

Miranda trailed off, before finishing bitterly, “At least he’s looking at you.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute.

“I always knew, you know.” Miranda started abruptly, staring off toward the door. “That you’d take me, I mean. We never talked much, but your Change came up awhile ago, so you were safe, and your willingness was… obvious. When you’re first picked up, they always ask if there’s anyone who might be able to take you in, and I knew, in that instant, that all I had to was ask. Mia was right, most Mins would kill for an opportunity like that.”

“Why?” I croaked, my voice hoarse with the weight of the question that had been burning in me for weeks now. “Why didn’t you? Why did you wait so long to ask?”

She sighed. “Fear, at least in part. Fear, and me lying to myself. I… never really liked you, Ian, you know that. You were always nice enough, but you’d look at me and you were always so… intense about it. Hungry, even. There are creepier ways a man can look at you, I admit, but it was more than just wanting to see me naked, or to rape me, it was like you wanted to own me, to put me a box on your shelf or something.”

Miranda paused, and blushed. “I’ll admit, part of me thought it was nice, to get that much of reaction from you, to have a man just look at me and fall madly for my charms, but it was also scary Ian. You never pushed me, you never did anything you shouldn’t, but it was like being a piece of meat in a room with a well trained dog: even if it’s not doing anything, you know it’s just a few words away from gulping you down. And then I Min’d and…”

She shuddered. “It scared me. You scared me, Ian; you still do. Even now, you’re still that dog, just as hungry as ever, still patiently eyeing me, waiting for that word to pounce. Only now you’re a dog as big as a house, looming over me with drool dripping from those big sharp teeth of yours, so close I can feel your breath threaten to knock me over, and there’s nothing holding you back: no leash, no collar, nothing but your willingness to obey.”

Almost unconsciously I found myself brushing a finger under my lips, looking for anything wet, and she laughed, sounding slightly hysterical.

“It’s… a little intoxicating, really, to have something as big as you are listen to me, to have that kind of power under my command.” Miranda smiled at me, excitement dancing in her eyes, mixed with with something darker. “But it’s dangerous, too: it’s all too easy to forget that the power isn’t mine, not really. You’re just letting me use it, and you could just as easily take it away.”

“I wouldn’t-” I begin, only to stop after a moment as I realized how intensely I was staring. WIthout realizing it, I found myself licking my lips, and she giggled.

“Face it, Ian,” Miranda said, patting my hand gently. “You would. You really would.”

Then the amusement left her face. “As for the other reason… just before it happened, Jarrett and I got in a fight. A big one. I left that day angry, and when he didn’t answer the request, I thought… he was just mad at me. That he was trying to punish me, and after a day or two, he’d come get me. Days turned to weeks, and there was still no word. It was a month in when I finally accepted the obvious: Jarrett didn’t want anything to do with me. If he had, he would have picked me up that day, fight or not.”

Slowly, I lifted up my hand and moved it towards her, one finger extended. Miranda watched it for a moment, face carefully blank even as her eyes glittered with the faintest hint of tears, but ultimately gave a little half shrug of her shoulder that I took as permission. Gently, I ran the finger tip down her back and she stiffened for a moment at the touch, before relaxing and leaning into my touch.

“That realization hit me harder than I would have liked,” Miranda continued, her tone admirably calm. “And it took me a while to get over it. Him. I… I thought were were getting pretty serious, before all of this. We were arguing about me moving in with him. He was for it, I wasn’t sure yet.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “Can you imagine, Ian? How fast everything changed? Just a day ago he was almost begging me to move in with him, but when I needed him to take me in, what does he do?”

She laughed again, sounding at the edge of tears. “He just gave up on me, Ian! He didn’t even have the courtesy to give me a ‘No’!”

For a minute, I thought she was going to cry again; I was sure she was at the edge of it. For whatever reason, though, Miranda pulled herself together, and wiped her face with the face of her arm instead.

“If… if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to be alone for awhile, Ian.” No matter how she phrased it, it was a question, and both of us knew it. I didn’t have to listen to her, and more than that I didn’t want to listen to her. I didn’t want to let her go, much less when she was feeling so vulnerable… but she wanted to, and we were doing so much better, now; I didn’t want to ruin everything just because I was impatient.

When I laid my hand back on the armrest, Miranda smiled up at me, surprised and pleased all at once. Guilt bubbled in my stomach at the fact that respecting her even that much was something so hard for me to do, and so unexpected for her to receive, even as her joy soothed the edge of my shame.

“Thank you, Ian.” She sniffled a little. “I appreciate this. I’ll… I’ll be back by the time you come back from the Kennel.”

And then, before I could say anything, she slipped off the chair, slid down my leg, and ran off into the house.

xxx

Scale Woman nodded to me politely. “Good to see you again, Mr. Hunter.”

“And you.” I replied briefly, since I still had no idea what her name actually was.

She huffed slightly, apparently just as unimpressed with me as ever. “If you’ll follow me, you meeting is rig-”

“Wait.” Scale Woman raised an eyebrow at my interruption, but let me continue anyways. “When I called, I had a… request.”

I had asked for Sydney by name when I called, but before I hung up I took a risk and asked that my interest in her in particular be kept from the Min. The man on the line had given me some bland reassurances, but I didn’t actully know if they had followed through on it or not.

Something about that must have interested her, because the boredom in her gaze vanished, and she examined me with mild interest.

“Yes, Mr. Hunter, your… request.” She emphasized the word with a mocking grin. “Rest assured, we did not tell her you were looking for ‘Sydney Wilson’, but simply that her criteria met your interest.”

“And she believed that?”

And there was the contempt again. “Sydney is the largest Min in our facilities, one of the largest Mins on record, to be frank. She’s used to getting more attention than the norm.”

Apparently done with the conversation, she turned on her heel and strode off, forcing me to follow her.

xxx

As it turned out, Scale Woman hadn’t exaggerated: the Min waiting for me atop the table in the meeting room was the biggest I’d ever seen, bar none. Miranda was on the high end, I knew, but Sydney must have been twice her height, easy; it was no surprise she was able to so easily push her around. She was also, I realized as I took in the form of the lithe creature before, drop dead gorgeous: warm bronze skin complemented by night black hair, long enough to reach her feet and artfully arranged to give her modesty, which only served to highlight all the features it hid. Over all, the effect only served to grant her an appearance even more sensual than just bared skin would have provided.

Sitting there, legs demurely folded beneath her as she waited for me, Sydney Wilson looked like nothing less than a fey creature out of a story, an exotic beauty that, in other circumstances, I would never be worthy to even approach.

Part of me wondered if I would see her adorning the cover of a magazine or two, if I was to investigate her in any depth. The rest of me had realized that this creature, small as it was, had hurt Miranda, and that anger helped shield me from being overwhelmed by her charms.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Scale Woman watch me with what I could only believe was approval on her face I proceeded to the chair without making a fool of myself.

Sydney straightened up and began to examine me in turn, and I took the time it afforded me to examine my feelings on her. Normally, I knew, the idea of someone hurting Miranda would have filled me with a burning rage, but looking at this woman, it was somehow too… personal an emotion to feel for her. She was too small for me to truly hate in that way, too weak. I didn’t like her, but I felt no overwhelming desire to cause her pain, either.

I’d do it, of course, but it was good to realize I wouldn’t end up killing her in some fit of rage; that’d be far too quick for what I had in mind.

“I have one question for you.” Sydney said, in a melodious voice. “Will there…”

She sighed suddenly, and slumped on the table, the ethereal air she had maintained gone in an instant, leaving only a Min as it left. She looked tired and defeated as she stared at me, and held her arms up as if to accept handcuffs. “Will there be diapers?”

What.

“What?”

“Five months ago, an old man came and tried to take me.” Sydney gritted out through clenched teeth. “He delighted in telling me about how he’d keep me in a cradle, make me wear diapers, feed me from a bottle, and in general treat me like an infant, and how wonderful it was that I was so large.”

What the fuck.

“I turned him down, obviously, and you’re the first person who has met me since then with a desire to take me home. I’m willing to put up with a lot of things, Mr. Hunter,” Sydney continued, staring me in the eye. “I doubt you’re going to be kind to me, and I accept that, but being infantilized like that is where I draw the line.”

“I’m not going to put you in diapers.” I sputtered incredulously.

I planned on humiliating her, obviously, and hurting her, but I had no interest in that.

She stared at me critically, but the sheer disgust at the idea must have been clear on my face, because after a moment she nodded. “Then I accept your generous offer… Master.”

Fun fact: DMC stands for Department of Minimal Control. Yes, the name is a tad ironic, and people are aware of that. Though the slang for shrunken women in this setting is ‘Min’ in common usage, more technically it stands for a ‘Minimal’. It’s also a verb, though, for ‘Minimizing’, which is the technical term for a woman shrinking and becoming a Min.

Surprisingly enough, I didn’t actully consult a Random Name Generator for Ian’s last name.

BTW, I’m curious: what is the impression you’re all getting of Ian’s personality thus far? I know what I’m going for, but I’m not sure how well it’s getting across.

I’m not sure how much the other two saw last night, but if nothing else they sure picked up on my mood: by the time I finished scrambling some eggs on the stove, they were at the edge of the table again, mere steps from the ladder, and all but cowering as they tried to avoid my attention. I left them to tremble as I prepared the table: two small plates, each with a tiny portion of eggs, and a larger plate, where I put the rest of the eggs. It was as I was applying some jelly to the toast that I realized that there was no sign of Miranda, and that for all I knew she didn’t even know I was making food.

I would have liked to say I thought about the decision, but at the same time part of my mind was noting that the eggs wouldn’t reheat well, my mouth was opening to shout.

“Breakfast is going to get cold, Miranda!”

There. Conscious assuaged. If she still didn’t show up, then it was her fault she was going to eat sub-par scrambled eggs, not mine. Amber and Mia, if anything, lowered themselves even farther down on the table at the sound of my voice, but a minute passed and there was still no sign of Miranda.

“Looks like it’s just us, then.” I announced to the Mins, who didn’t seem reassured by my statement, but I ignored their fear and sat down to eat.

Part of me was irrationally, bitterly glad that Miranda was ignoring me: it let me be angry easier, let me put the blame for our… everything on her. Another part noted that if I wanted her at the damn table so bad, I could just make her come: she only had a choice in the matter if I let her have one. She was, it reminded me, not my girlfriend who I was having a fight with, she was the Min I owned. I could blame her for whatever I wanted, do to her whatever I wanted, and there was nothing she could do about it, and that fact was oh so tempting.

The rest of me was just pining for her presence, pathetically so. I knew, in the end, I’d be stupidly happy just watching her go about her day, even if she was ignoring me, and that fact only fed into my irritation.

The worst part of it all was the fact this was all her fault in the first place! I hadn’t expected anything from her beyond annoyance and dismissal, and I had resigned myself to a life of lonesome longing before I had even met with her; it was Miranda, in the first place, who brought up and accepted in the same breath the fact I could and would use her. It was Miranda who plead to me for safety, cried over my kindness, smiled at me with that damn smile of hers, only to all but spit in my face minutes later.

I could deal with getting nothing from her, I expected to get nothing from her, so why did she keep taunting me with all these fantasies of anything more?

Why did she keep getting my hopes up?

I was so busy fuming, only half heartedly eating my food to better wallow in my bad mood, that I was lost to the world around me until I felt a slight tug at one of the legs of my pants.

“Uh.” Miranda began, refusing to look me in the face. “Is… is it too late for me to eat?”

I stared at her, stunned and mouth still filled with eggs, for so long that she took at as a rejection.

“Oh”. She murmured softly, seeming to fold in on herself ever so slightly, before beginning to turn away.

“OK then. That’s… I’ll just-”

I swallowed hastily. “Wait!”

Miranda flinched at my shout, but stopped moving. “Wait! Of course you can eat! I was just… surprised.”

“Oh!” She said again, her tone suddenly lighter. “Thank you!”

There was a pause where neither of us moved.

“Would you… like me to help you up?” I ventured.

Yesterday, I knew, I wouldn’t have even thought about moving her to the table. Today, though, today taking that liberty felt… wrong. Like we were starting fresh, and if I wasn’t careful, I could wreak any chance I had of us having something better than how it had been.

Miranda, apparently, was just as surprised by my sudden courtesy as I was, and stared at me for a moment before smiling gently.

“That… that would be nice.” She said, sounding almost shy.

Slowly, I reached down to her, grabbing Miranda firmly around the hips before lifting her as smoothly as I could. She tensed slightly at my approached, but only that: she didn’t try to run from me, and even relaxed slightly at my firm grip on her body.

Then she was on the table again, and we were both trying and failing to eat, distracted by each other’s presence.

“Oh!” I said, starting to get up from the chair. “I just remembered I got you silverware to use. Give me a minute and I’ll grab it-”

Miranda jerked away at my sudden movement, and I froze. For a tense second we stared at each other, before she sighed and waved me down.

“Sorry about that, I just… panicked a little.” She shook her head. “This isn’t going how I wanted it to at all. Can you just… sit down for a minute? I want to ask you something.”

I nodded before lowering myself gingerly to my seat. Miranda sighed again.

“Ian, I-” She cut herself off, pinching her nose with one hand while holding the other up. “Actually, can you just… give me a minute?”

I officially had no idea what was going on. “…Sure.” I said finally.

“Thanks.” Miranda said almost absently, before starting to pace back and forth on the table, muttering to herself.

A quick glance to the side revealed that Amber and Mia were just as confused as I was, if less worried than they had been before: while it looked like they still hadn’t touched their food, they seemed far less stressed than they had been the last time I looked at them.

She stopped and took a deep breath. “Alright.”

I focused on her as she turned to face me. “Ian. I… it occurs to me that I handled things… badly, between us. Everything, honestly. I didn’t need to make things so adversarial between us. I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. You’ve been doing me, all of us, this incredible favor and I’ve been rude to you in return. I’ve just been in a bad place recently-”

She gestured at her body, before waving her arms out at the entire room, and how vast it was in comparison to her.

“-Obviously, and I’ve been taking it… badly. Which makes this next part even more awkward than it would have been.”

I leaned back in my chair as she stopped for a breath, my jaw on the floor.

Holy shit. She was apologizing. Holy shit.

“I had a hard time in the Kennel,” Miranda continued. “There is very little structure there, outside of some basic rules imposed on us, and so the biggest among us ruled. I’m big for a Min, more than enough to give Amber and Mia some protection, but there was one woman there who was bigger than me. Sydney…” Miranda winced. “Was unhappy with my presence. She felt like I was moving in on her territory, and wasn’t afraid to take it out on me.”

She snorted. “Which was stupid, really, because I wasn’t a threat to her; I tried to fight her when she got in particularly nasty mood, several times, actually, and I didn’t stand a chance. But she did it, anyways.”

She stopped, fists clenched, and I waited patiently for her to continue, barely able to breath.

“I hate her.” Then louder. “I hate her, Ian! I hate that stupid, over sized bitch! I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want to be ‘in her way’! I just wanted to be left alone, and she just-”

Miranda was screaming now, clenched fingers clawing through the air. “I want to make her pay! I want to her to be the one to be afraid, to be the one crying! I want to hurt her, Ian! So much!”

She stopped and panted, catching her breath as I stared at her, enraptured by the display.

“But I can’t.” Miranda continued, suddenly as calm as could be. “I’m here and she’s there, and even if I could get to her, she’d beat me just as effortlessly as before. I can’t do anything.”

She lifted her head to stare me straight in the eye. “But you can, Ian. You promised me, yesterday. You said you would protect anyone I wanted to protect, and hurt anyone I wanted hurt.”

“I want her to hurt, Ian.” Her voice was like a blade: sharp, cold and completely merciless. “Her name is Sydney Wilson, and I want her to hurt.”

For a long moment I stared at Miranda, at her determination, at the weakness that she had just laid before me. This, I knew, was my chance, my choice: I could take this opportunity she gave me, and build some kind of bond with her, or reject it, and her, forever.

I nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Your daily reminder that this is not a nice story I’m writing.

Also, the real reason I’m annoyed at the name of this fic: I’ve finally reached the point where it no longer matches, and at this point, it’s probably too late to change it. Also, I wouldn’t know what to change it to.

This ‘twist’, if it is a twist to you, was something I had always planned to do, but… later. Then again, this fic, both within and without, seems to be about recklessly accelerating relationships, so it’s fitting in a way. I’ve got to say, though, working in the new character with the olive branch to ‘fix’ their relationship (and oh, what a fucked up olive branch it is: torture my enemy for my love!) for their relationship is a stroke of genius I wish I could take credit for, but I have like… only three or four plot points for this entire story. The rest is all flailing and spinning bullshit.