Casey finished off her wine in a violent gulp, looking at the clock.

Scott had eleven minutes left. She doubted he’d be late. So far, he’d submitted to everything she’d demanded. He was willing to make a fool of himself, even to physically harm himself to stop the world from seeing him with his hand wrapped around his worm.

She navigated to her photos, skipping past the familiar ones – the ones she’d shown Scott – and selecting the newer ones.

Her body glowed, a ball expanding from deep inside, starlight and goodness and pleasure tickling every part of her.

Scott crawled around on the floor, nuzzling the carpet, making purring noises as he tried to reach the treat at the end of the piece of string. He is the weak one, the little puny one, the dead-headed one. Casey was off-camera, pulling the treat away, as Scott meowed and licked his lips. He’d begged her not to do this, but it was too hilarious.

The next one had Casey giggling like crazy.

Scott was tied to a chair, his hands behind his back, completely naked. Casey was behind him, ducked down so the camera couldn’t see her face; her arm snaked around and she took him in her hand, stroking aggressively, hard, making him feel it, really feel it. She’d only been able to study his face afterward, on video, revelling in the twisted transformation.

First he was angry, all demon-eyed, but then his instincts started to kick in. He couldn’t help it. Casey had replayed one part many times: the moment Scott realised he was beginning to enjoy it. His eyes widened like a cartoon character, and then his lips made a weird shape, not quite a grimace, not quite a smile. “Please, please.”

Even he didn’t know if he was begging her to stop or keep going. Towards the end, Casey had moaned for him, driving him closer and closer. And then, once he’d spilled his feeble little load, Casey had smoothed her hand up his belly. She’d gathered it all up – thinking that surely this was it; surely he’d draw the line here – and brought her hand to his mouth.

Too quiet for the camera, she’d whispered, “Drink it, Scottie. You know you want to.”

And he had.

She moved her hands over her belly, laughing so hard it hurt. It was all there in his face: his need to be strong, to be in charge, to put Casey in her place. But he couldn’t. He was a weasel.

There were more, but that one was hard to top. She’d made him eat several bowlfuls of spinach, which he hated. He’d vomited at the end. There were a couple of them having sex, which Casey would never show anybody; she had never enjoyed their sex before, but it was different now.

Casey placed her phone down and climbed to her feet. She wanted to unpack Scott’s present before he got home.

21

SCOTT

Scott paused at the gate, squeezing onto the cold metal. It hadn’t even been two weeks since Casey revealed her true nature. It felt like much longer, like he’d become a completely different person. Every thought roared at him to get away from here, to get away from her.