Tucked away in the forest mountains, veiled behind a large oak just off from a secluded trail, the dreadful duo lay. The world was a brutal, cold place, especially for people like them, but in each other's arms life felt just right. Emma was lying in Rose’s lap, a silk recliner holding them both aloft, nuzzling together as Rose ran her fingers through Emma’s hair. 

 

Rose: "It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about this anymore. I’ll dispose of the body and just tell my folks you went through with it. They’ll respect you all the same as if you did."

 

Emma: "Perhaps, but I won’t."

 

Rose kissed Emma’s head gently as she wrapped her arms across her waist. Her touch seemed to finally calm Emma at least a smidge, enough that she could lay her head back into Rose’s breasts and take in her soft, loving energy. 

 

Rose: "Well you should. You're the bravest, wisest, most brilliant person I know, and if I need to be the one to carry you through the darkness I will. I’ve been trained from birth to give you a bountiful nest, and I can do it without needing your sacrifice, only your blessing."

 

Emma smiled, but only a little bit.

 

Emma: "I know you could, but I couldn’t. Being with you has taught me the true nature of the world, that is that it is divided into two types of people. The rulers and the ruled, the conquerors and the conquered, the brokers and the broken. If I don’t do this I’ll always be a jumped up peasant squatting on a throne built for a Queen, and that’s not what I want. I want to be your partner in all things, light and dark."

 

Rose beamed.

 

Rose: "Oh my sweet."

 

Emma: "Yeah?"

 

Rose: "I think I just fell in love with you all over again."

 

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It wasn’t the conclusion she wanted to reach after a great deal of stumbling in the near pitch darkness looking for a way out of whatever hell she’d been taken to, but more and more it was becoming the only logical one. 

 

 

As if on cue, the dark room was suddenly awash in blinding light, prompting Zoey to lose her balance. She was saved from the pain of the harsh iron floor by a swing. She heard laughing through a telecom.

 

Rose: "God you really are pathetic aren’t you? Can’t even stand up right."

 

Zoey was forced to sit as Rose laughed at her own ‘joke’ for at least a minute, probably more. Eventually Rose seemed to mostly calm herself down, but Zoey could still notice short pauses in the remainder of her monologue, filled as they were by only the faintest giggle. 

 

Rose: “I know it might not seem like it, but I really do have a heart. It may be small, black and twisted, but it's there, and so now that you're utterly powerless to stop me I’ll show you the kindness of honesty. You're never getting out of here. Me and my soulmate are going to torture you for however long we feel like, starting with little things and working our way up until she’s ready to kill you, and your going to go along with it. Not only are you going to sit there and take it like a whore, you're going to thank us afterwards and put every last bit of your energy, every last morsel of your soul that we haven’t already burned, into making it seem genuine. Perhaps, when we’re done with you, it will be. Either way, you're going to be a good girl for my Emma, an obedient, slavish little doll, because if you aren’t, if you make me angry, I’ll kill a member of your family for every complaint I have.”

 

Zoey was stunned. Was this really going to be how she died, slowly and painfully as little more than target practice in some sick scheme from the malevolent bitch who put her here to effectively clone herself into Emma? Was Emma really going along with this, does she really care that little about her? Does she really care that little about the moral causes she dedicated her life to? Was she always this way? The telecom sent another message, but Zoey was too inside herself to process it.

 

The bars of the swing collapsed, sending Zoey tumbling to the ground.

 

Rose: "Hey Princess! Are you deaf or stupid? I asked you a question."

 

 

Zoey: "I’m sorry Rose, I didn’t hear the last part of what you said because I was too busy coming to terms with the fact that I’m nothing in your presence, but I can hear you now! I promise to do better, I promise to strive with my every being to be worthy of your time. Please please give me another chance to serve you and Emma, please give me another chance to contribute as much as a worthless, insolent girl such as myself can to people better than me!"

 

The telecom was silent for a long moment. An eternity later it roared back to life.

 

Rose: "Good slave. I’ll be back with you at my own convenience. In the meantime, if you want food simply press the blue button in the ceiling corner, just too high for you to reach without putting your back into it. Then loudly pleasure yourself to the glory of your mistresses, and if I feel like it I’ll ensure some slop falls from the ceiling shaft into your grubby, worn little hands."

 

Zoey: "Okay."

 

Zoey knew her voice sounded broken and hopeless, and part of her didn't want to give Rose that satisfaction but she just couldn’t help herself. Nor could she help pondering that perhaps her remaining time on this earth would be easier if she allowed herself to be brainwashed into believing her chains were just rather than fighting them until the end.

 

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Emma and Rose were each standing on different sides of a drugged, broken Zoey, Emma in a prime position to whisper in her ear and Rose to control her pleasure. Before she spoke, Emma made sure her voice sounded of sweet, poisoned honey just like she’d practiced. Even before she’d said a word the rush was overwhelming.

 

Emma: "That’s it sweetheart, just relax and let me do the thinking from now on. No need to worry, no need to fret. Your betters are in charge now, we’ll guide you from here."

 

“Sweetheart” was lost in her own little world and probably couldn’t consciously hear the words Emma was saying, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t getting through to her. The night before, just as Emma was about to turn off the reading light, Rose asked her to leave it on so she could find her way back to the bed after “setting Zoey to simmer” in preparation to cook the next day. As it turned out, those preparations included filling her head with military-grade interrogation gas to rob her of her faculties for days, and a set of contact lenses which beamed mind-melting spirals directly through her pupils. This, combined with a pinch of ‘stimulation’ from Rose would keep Emma’s poor victim exactly how she wanted her, weak and pliable. 

 

Emma: "I want you to reflect on your powerlessness, your weakness, your impotence. Everything in your life, every sensation, every feeling, every pathetic little current that flows through your worthless little head, everything you’ve become was chosen by us. You aren't a person, not anymore, but you're not just any old object either. You're a work of art."

 

With a terse nod, Emma signaled to Rose to put the vibrator in. If the brainwashing was going to work, the couple needed to control Zoey’s emotions as well as her reality. 

 

Emma: "If you were conscious I imagine you’d reject this truth, claim that there was some ‘youness’ I could never take away no matter what vile, horrible things I do to you, but we’d both know it was a lie. The only reason you're still alive is my mercy, and no matter what I say to you right now you’ll just nod along. Think about that, and keep thinking about it when you're in your old state as well. I could say anything to you, anything at all, and you my Sweetheart, you couldn’t do anything about it. So relaxing, knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop me, no point in thinking at all when your thoughts are just dust in the wind."

 

Emma: "In fact, to show you just how feeble you really are, I’m going to steal your name. I’m not going to use it of course, that would be beneath me, but I am going to make sure you can’t have it. From now on your name is Sweetheart, and that’s the only name you're going to remember when you wake up. Isn’t that right Sweetheart?"

 

Sweetheart couldn’t string so much as a letter together, but her mewling was quite clearly affirmative.

 

Emma: "Do you wanna know the best part? I’m not even done! I’ve stolen your very name and my story’s barely begun! I’m going to take everything you ever were, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me."

 

At this point Emma had to stop as her own voice grew weak by the grace of the raging fire within her. It was beautiful, mesmerizing even, feeling the fires of lust sear away her scruples and reduce her hand to its puppet. She had stolen Sweetheart’s name for no other reason than because she could, and soon she would steal the world for no other reason then so she and her muffin could dance atop it like the glowing star of a Christmas tree. She might have even called it the greatest feeling in the world, if it wasn’t competing with the reverent pride in Rose’s eyes. 

 

The feeble peasant bitch could wait, it was time for her goddesses to celebrate.

 

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Rose was sitting on an ivory throne adorned with the most beautiful flower-themed engravings and the softest velvet pillows for her to melt into. Emma’s back was pressed up against her breasts, her long hair massaged by Rose’s fingers, and her hips grinding against Sweetheart’s face as the latter raked her tongue through Emma’s slit. Sweetheart’s eyes shone of a sensual hopelessness that practically begged to be paid attention to, the eyes of a human being so broken and battered she couldn’t even trust her own humanity anymore. 

 

They had destroyed her, Emma had destroyed her, and Rose knew from the glow in Emma’s own eyes that that hopelessness powered her ecstasy at least as much as Sweetheart’s lips. 

 

 

For her whole life Rose had felt invisible, lost, alone. Before she let the darkness in her heart it still surrounded her, poisoning every relationship within and without the Vaeni alike, and after she let it mold her into its avatar her family simply found a new reason to freeze her out. It was only now, as she was perched atop a literal throne, that she’d finally found her equal, her partner in love and crime, her other half.

 

Someone who truly saw her, saw her deep malevolent instincts, her selfishness, her penchant for the most twisted of delights, and smiled. Someone to share her spoils with, someone to love every part of her, someone who’d understand her completely, someone to hold her victims down for her, and someone to celebrate with after. 

 

 

Rose whispered sinfully in Emma’s ear:

 

Rose: “I love you.”

 

Emma’s eyes rolled back.

 

She whimpered:

 

Emma: “I love you too.”

 

They broke 23 of Sweetheart’s bones that day. 💘

 

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Sweetheart had been on her knees for many hours before Rose and Emma walked in pretzeled as one, kissing and whimpering and saying the lord's name in vain as they touched and teased each other. She had been instructed to “break herself in” devoting every facet of her mental capacity to finding new ways for her mistresses to torture her, and one of the first things she’d thought of was taking away her ability to move without a command. They were so proud of her, it was the best feeling in the world. 

 

Stuck on the floor unable to offer her body to her adorable superiors was the painful other side of the coin, but she could at least know they’d use her when they were ready. 

 

It was absurd to think that she used to be a person, a free agent with her own desires and will. Such luxuries were the domain of the rich, heavenly goddesses like her mistresses, and it was shameful to think she had stolen such a privilege for two and a half decades, but at least now she had been finally defeated. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except her mistresses will.

 

Her mistresses finally approached her station. Rose kicked her onto her back and laughed. It was glorious.

 

 

Sweetheart desperately wanted to show her submission, to stick her hand between her thighs and cry out to the glorious service that was exterminating putrid scum like herself, but she knew she couldn't. Her mistresses had broken her, filled her head with the fire of obedience; now the way to show true understanding of her inferiority was to surrender even that to their whim. 

 

Sweetheart’s desperation to squirm only heightened when Emma shoved her jet black heel into her slit, and she felt herself melting into the floor when Rose revealed the gun that would soon be used to destroy her, but still she kept herself in check. 

 

There was a short moment of worry, a concern for her mistresses pleasure, when Emma paused for a moment rather than accepting the weapon. Was she hesitating, had Sweetheart failed in her role as a training dummy?

 

Emma: "Sweetheart?"

 

Sweetheart: "Yes Mistress?"

 

The anticipation was torture, and seemed to go on forever before Emma’s next question calmed Sweetheart down.

 

Emma: “Do you still mind if we kill your family?”

 

Mistress Rose looked shocked and more excited then Sweetheart had ever seen her.

 

 

 

Sweetheart: "If it would make my mistresses happy I hope, and know, that they will rape all of them to death! Their bodies are yours, just as much as mine."

 

Sweetheart was practically bursting from the seams now to show her gratitude at being given yet another chance to serve her betters. Her voice sounded like she was picoseconds away from literally jumping with joy. Emma grinned as she accepted the firearm.

 

Sweetheart had to move, had to bite her lips or stick her hand between her thighs or something, she only had a few moments left to act! Her body remained bolted to the ground. 

 

Emma took position on Sweetheart's left, and aimed for the heart, while Rose stepped across her length and emerged right above her head. The two glanced at one another, then affirmed they were both ready. 

 

Rose’s heel seemed to slam down in slow motion, its black velvet approaching ever closer with every fraction of a moment that passed. At first Sweetheart was excited to die, to serve, just as excited as she had been for as long as she could remember, but then something happened. As Rose's heel crossed the halfway point, a tiny crack in the barrage of brainwashing she had drilled into her mind formed, allowing a previously sealed off emotion to slip into her conscious awareness.

 

 

They were going to kill her, they were going to kill everyone she loved...

 

 

The heel finally crashed into her worthless eyes, and before she had processed anything beyond the raw terror of it all a small silver bullet ended her story.

 

The Vaenis didn’t wait a moment further to fall into each other's arms.