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Carol felt her left hand tugged. She turned around and found Zosia smiling unnaturally at her. One might regard Zosia's expression as sheepish, if they had not known these mind-fuckers well, but Carol knew better: the Others had no shame at all.
"What's wrong?" asked Carol. She was trying to enjoy a stroll after dinner, and the way Zosia was acting right now threatened to kill the mood. "Am I walking too fast?" she joked, which was an irrational idea. Considering their height difference and Zosia's ridiculously long legs, Carol had never really stood a chance. Zosia was the one supposed to put up with her.
Silently, Zosia tugged at her hand again with a look of expectancy. Carol couldn't help getting irritated. They had all the brains in the world, and yet they still depended on Carol to process most of the thoughts. Carol sighed. "You want to hold hands with me?" she asked, and immediately felt like an asshole.
"We believe it's for the best," said Zosia.
"Why? Because one of us may get lost?" said Carol. She made a mindless gesture in the air to make a point.
Zosia took a step forward. "We wouldn't want that to happen, would we?" The eagerness in their manner was uncanny as usual, and Carol was not drunk enough for this shit. She stared at Zosia's neck, upwards to her face, and then back to her neck. Maybe she should just put a leash on Zosia and fucking dragged her along. They loved to have connection with her. Oh, how they craved connection with her. Zosia always looked at where they were joined in awe when Carol was finger fucking her. But how was she going to approach the pet play dynamics? Dial zero and make a request for a leather collar? A blue one, yes, with a tiny silver heart pendant at the front… She would ask them for the collar most politely, indeed.
Zosia cocked her head while playing with Carol's index and middle fingers. Carol swallowed at the familiarity of Zosia's touch. "Would you tell us what's on your mind, Carol?" asked Zosia.
You, being my bitch, thought Carol. "I'm thinking about how great you look in blue," she lied. Zosia looked great in every color.
"Thank you," Zosia grinned. Carol grinned back. She couldn't be more sincere.
That night Carol fucked Zosia from behind wearing a strap-on. She clutched a fistful of Zosia's hair and yanked Zosia's head back. Helen did this with her all the time. Carol loved it; thus Zosia must love it as well, because it pleased Carol. She made a mental list of what to do with Zosia as she thrust into her: give Zosia treats, take Zosia for a walk, play fetch with Zosia, give Zosia a bath, and tuck Zosia up in bed. This individual known as Zosia had left too much to be desired. From now on she could be simply Carol's dog. Owned by Carol.
"Bitch," Carol blurted out, shuddering at her make-believe power. Zosia made a noise that sounded as though a mixture of a laugh and a moan. She looked over her shoulder to lock eyes with Carol.
"Yes, Carol," said Zosia. "We are your bitch."