“Put this on.”
Harry pulled forth a deep collared necklace that had a small, ruby gem right in the middle; it looked like it was almost a gothic necklace, something I would find in Hot Topic, although this didn’t look like cheap plastic - the gem looked real.
I eyed the collar with wary eyes and asked, “What does it do?”
“It tells everyone that you’re my pet.” Harry replied with a small smirk, his dark eyesadmiring the collar.
“Have all your pets worn this?” I asked in disdain. I could only imagine all the pets Harry’s had in the past. I could’ve been the 50th girl he brought to Hell. And I didn’t want to think of what happened to the other ones.
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you will wear it.” Harry stated, and I sighed before bowing my head and feeling the tight collar hug my neck tightly, the gem hanging limply. It felt kind of heavy with the gem, and I heard something lock; looking to my left, I saw, to my horror, that Harry had attached a chain.
“What are you doing?” I asked sharply.
“What does it look like?” Harry replied calmly, his eyes staring down at the chain sitting in his palm. He closed his hand loosely, tugging on the chain, and I let out a gargled noise as the collar dug against my sensitive skin.
“Stop! Don’t do that - it hurts!”
A low, husky chuckle of amusement was heard, and Harry murmured, “Good.”
From what I’ve learned over the “time” I spent here, Harry was very sadistic. He really did enjoy hearing me scream, and he loved when I started to cry or beg him to stop. It was like he purposely pushed me to that point; he revelled in it.
But as soon as I went limp, or stopped struggling, his amusement was gone, and he’d try to get a response by doing something different.
It was torture.
Absolute torture.
“I think this chain needs to be shorter,” Harry cooed with that twisted grin when my eyes widened in terror. If the chain was shorter, it would dig more into my skin. “What do you think of that, Avery? Hm? Would you like that?” His voice had gotten lower, almost lustful as he towered over me, his hand lightly tugging at the collar against my skin. I think he was trying to get me to enjoy the pain, but I doubted I ever would.
“I wouldn’t like it,” I murmured.
“Don’t worry. You’ll grow to love it.” He seemed pretty confident in his words, though I was shooting him a doubtful stare. He stepped away and tugged sharply on the chain, and I stumbled after him, gripping at the collar, which felt tight against my skin. I walked stiffly, my head leaning slightly towards Harry to lessen the pressure.
When will this torture ever end?
