Kept him alive.

He didn't think that she would honestly take away that last thing. His pride, certainly. His freedom, without a doubt. His sense of self-worth... perhaps. But she wouldn't break him. She wouldn't make him beg to die. She wouldn't... wouldn't destroy him. Wouldn't kill him.

And so this time, just like all the others, he begged and whimpered and pleaded, he showed her fear... but the mask was slipping, and she could see his certainty behind it, his faith in the misguided belief that she wouldn't do it.

And oh, but that infuriated her. He no longer feared her. No longer thought that maybe, just maybe, if she was pushed... that maybe she would tear him apart. Perhaps, she said to herself, he never thought that. Perhaps he never understood how careful I was with him, how much I loved him, how much I cared.

Perhaps he never saw how badly I had to tear myself apart to keep him whole, on those long dark nights when all I wanted in the universe was to leave him broken, bleeding, dying.

She decided that this time, she wouldn't stop. This time she would steel herself, keep her heart locked away.

She decided to break him.

Don't think it was easy - he had such eyes, eyes to rip at her soul and make her regret every second of his pain. His voice, too... well, until it got too rough from screaming to even be coherant. But until then, his voice was that of an angel in hell, begging and aching.

The first day started simply enough. She'd spent a week before that denying him touch, contact... not completely, she couldn't bring herself to pass up the feel of his skin at times, but she pushed him away often enough that he noticed, that he started to miss it, just a bit. The night before, she'd let him sleep beside her. Hugged him. Told him once more that her love for him wouldn't always protect him. Told him in a whisper, once she was certain he was asleep, that she was sorry. That she wished it was otherwise. That she wasn't able to protect him any longer... because he had stopped believing in her. He just rolled over, his hair falling over tightly-closed eyes, lost in some pleasant dream.

She climbed out of bed. Spent the night in a chair by the bed. She couldn't stand the thought of him touching her, just then.

So it started that morning with him waking to see her curled up in the huge chair, a blanket draped over her, sleeping, cheeks still stained with tears and her body shivering... it was cold. Puzzled, he crawled out of bed and nuzzled her, demandingly, waking her up - he might not have dared to do that once, but he was so secure, and he was honestly worried about her.

She woke to the feel of his face pressed against her thigh, and her instinctive response was to draw him closer... which she did, and then once he was within reach, she slapped him. Pushed him away. She pointed at the cage.

"In. Close the door. Keep quiet."

He obeyed, of course... he was hers, and although he didn't fear punishment he didn't want to displease her, so in he went. Naked, because he'd slept that way. Cold - the floor of the cage was metal, the bars metal, and although there was a thin blanket and a pillow within, they did little to block out the chill of early morning. When she bothered to move to the bed, peering in, he was huddled tightly in the back of the cage, wrapped as tightly as he could manage in the blanket. He looked out at her pitifully... and she shook her head.

Four large locks. He hadn't known she had them, hadn't heard her tell another of her slaves to bring them to her a few days before. Four large locks, and a length of chain that would not be easily broken. She opened the cage door, beckoned him closer... and stripped him of his collar, replacing it with one end of the chain and one of the locks before he could even protest.

The chain itself was pulled out through the bars, the door shut again, and she began to carefully fasten the cage shut. The locks held it in place, keeping it from being able to open... and attaching the chain to the bars themselves, turning him into merely an extention of the cage. He watched this, whimpering a bit, more from cold and habit than from fear... and she didn't speak until he was chained in place, until she had opened the door again and cuffed his wrists behind his back, locking the cuffs in place, cuffed his ankles together and bound those too, locking him completely in place, the blanket tossed carelessly on the cage floor beneath him. He was shivering.

"I told you over and over. I told you that this would happen... as long as you believed me, it didn't need to. The belief was enough. You stopped believing."

He looked puzzled... shook his head, denying the obvious explanation for her words. When he spoke, his voice had a hint of arrogance in it still, despite the submissive tone he forced it into, despite the carefully-chosen words.

"Please, Mistress, I don't understand... what is happening?"

She snickered. Ran one finger down the bars, tracing the length of chain. When she met his eyes again he cringed away, remembering enough of the bad times to understand what the madness lurking within those eyes meant for him. Her words, then, were almost unsurprising.

"I'm going to break you."

He didn't say anything. Couldn't. But he was shivering harder now, and it wasn't from cold. She nodded her approval as he let himself feel fear, let the emotion build... but didn't seem willing to let him out. She'd threatened him with this before. Said 'I might break you' or 'should I break you' or 'I want to break you'. But never... never the determination. Never the cold, distant tone and the horrible hunger in her eyes that left him shaking.

He started to beg... and she stood up, leaving the room, turning out the light as she went. A bit of grey light snuck in the windows, winter sun not doing much to illuminate the curtained room. He was left alone in the half-light, bound hand and foot, helpless. Ignored. Knowing that if she meant what she said...

...he shook his head. She couldn't possibly mean it, he thought. He was convinced that she DID love him, love him enough to spare him. She wanted to see him frightened... very well, he would be frightened. But he.. she...

His thoughts trailed off as he heard the outside door open and close, heard her footsteps leaving the house. She'd never left him alone when bound, certainly not left him so helpless. She told him once that although she might be willing to let a cat alone, or a book, or a table, that he was worth too much. That she wouldn't abandon him, because he was worth protecting, because she wanted him safe.

And now she'd left him trapped. Helpless. Completely at the mercy of... anything. As the realization of this set in he started to sob, pressing against the cage bars, not willing to believe that she would change her mind. She must just be running some quick errand, going upstairs to the other house, doing something, anything, but she would be back...

She left him there for five hours.

When she finally returned, he was wriggling, his entire body thrust against the cold metal in a desperate play for her attention, anything to get her to look at him, to talk to him, to let him out and reassure him. Instead she walked to the computer... went about her normal routine, checking email, writing in her journal, all the little activities that he was used to sitting near and watching. He'd spent so many days curled up beside her, watching as she wrote... and now he was trapped far away, unable to even see the words on the screen.

He whimpered - often just the sound of it was enough to set her quivering, to convince her to hold him, comfort him... this time she just laughed, glancing over her shoulder long enough to hiss an order at him, telling him to shut up.

He did. Frightened, he did... he was having a hard time continuing to believe that this was just something to scare him. Not for this long. Her mood swings, the ones where she wanted to frighten or hurt him, they rarely lasted more than an hour or two... and they were usually so direct, her hands on him, her teeth at his throat, the feel of her whip and the sounds of the songs that encouraged her rage... this silence, ignoring him, this hurt.

Another hour... two... and now his body was protesting, muscles aching from being unable to move, natural functions demanding attention. Timidly he voiced his needs, begging her for permission to leave the cage long enough to relieve himself, perhaps be allowed a drink of water... her response was short, and to the point.

"If you speak again until I give you permission, I'll cut your tongue."

He fell silent again. Fought with his body, trying to hold back his needs, knowing quite well that to fail would be just as likely to earn him misery as speaking would, now. One more hour... he'd been in the cage for over eight hours now and his body was screaming, when she finally walked over.

He looked out at her with eyes that were glittering with tears... the scent of his fear was overpowering, and she grinned as she opened the cage door, detaching him from the bars, releasing his ankles, his wrists... and removing the chain at his throat. He trembled at that, opening his mouth to ask if he was still safe, if he still had her protection... but her warning glare kept him silent. Instead he looked at her pleadingly, gesturing with head and carefully-held hands toward the bathroom. She shook her head and the whimper that escaped him now was close to a moan, his fear at his body's weakness overwhelming his ability to keep quiet.

She laughed. Pointed at the door that led to the fenced, private backyard. He nodded and began to climb to his feet, but a blow from her quickly brought him back to hands and knees. Even more frightened now, he crawled outside, feeling as if something had been taken away from him. Even at her cruelest she'd never forced him to behave so completely like an animal... and she'd taken away his collar. He knew quite well that without the protection of that symbol, she had no qualms about hurting him.

When he returned she was waiting, once more curled up in the chair he'd seen her in that morning. She pointed at the floor in front of her and he scampered over obediently, dropping quickly into nadu, hoping to please her by this display of submission. Instead he was treated to a kick, her head shaking.

"Barely even able to present yourself... I know you can do better than that. Or at least I hope so. Try again, little whore."

Her voice was still cold, and he hurried to reposition himself, his legs spread as wide as he could force them, back arched gracefully, his head turned down but eyes lifted to her, pleading silently with them, begging her to forgive him, to comfort him, to find some way to be proud of him...

...she laughed, and slapped him. "Eyes down. I don't want to see your face. I'm not even sure I want to see YOU."

He cringed at that, she'd called him beautiful and now she didn't even want to see him... for a moment, out of sight, his eyes flashed with something close to anger. She really was trying to break him, with pathetic insults... and then he felt the sting of another blow as she leaped forward, her free hand catching at his hair, yanking his head back until he was forced to look at her.

"I have no use for your anger, little slaveboy. You will either learn to hide it better, or give it up. I suggest the second option. Get back in the cage."

He shook his head as well as he could, still angry, and frightened as well, terrified of more hours spent locked away... but he'd not counted on her determination, and after only a few minutes found himself crawling to the cage as if it was his salvation... which it might be, since certainly once he managed to wriggle his way into the half-open door and huddle behind the bars, she stopped the beating... he looked himself over, hands pressing gently at his own flesh, knowing the feel of soon-to-be bruises.

She smiled pleasantly as she locked the cage door, and he looked away from her, no longer doubting that she meant to break him, and now trying to fight it, unwilling to be broken.

Another hour found her sprawled on the bed, drinking a soda while she watched him, not offering him any despite his obvious thirst... finally his need got the better of him and, sullenly, he asked if he could have a drink. She glanced at the clock before speaking, noting the time.

"That was pathetic. In an hour if you ask without the pout and with a bit more in the way of good manners, I might let you have some water. If you ask before then, or sulk, it will be two hours."

He nodded slowly, his submission still deep enough to make the waiting feel... not pleasant, but certainly not unexpected. Sighing softly, he did his best to burrow into the blanket, curling up within it, his head on the pillow, watching her as she drank and read, then curled up on the bed and drifted off... eventually his eyes turned to the clock.

An hour passed, and she was still asleep. He debated his options - wait, the thirst growing worse and his misery increasing... or wake her, and possibly anger her enough to make her deny him a drink at all, or find some other way to hurt him. With another tiny sigh he curled tighter in the blanket, his eyes fixed now on his Mistress, willing her to wake but not daring to make enough noise to draw her attention to his plight.

It only took a half-hour after that for her to open her eyes, gaze falling on him... and her face screwing up in disgust as she sat up and moved away. Before he could beg she was out the door, leaving him still in the cage, still thirsty, and no longer certain at all that she would be back.

She did return, though... even brought water, in the dog dish that she forced him to eat and drink from when he'd displeased her. The sight of it made him just a bit queasy, knowing what it represented... his hand went to his throat, an instinctive gesture, trying to comfort himself with the feel of his collar. When his fingers touched bare skin he had to fight to bite back a wail, remembering that she'd stripped him of his collar earlier.

She set down the cheap plastic dish, opened the cage door, waiting... his thirst overcame his shame easily, after all, he'd done this before... and with a motion that seemed to contain more desperation than simple eagerness to obey, he lunged for the cage door, crawling through as quickly as he could manage, his face dropping to the dish and tongue flicking out, lapping thirstily at the lukewarm water... only a few sips made it past his lips before his hair was yanked back cruelly.

"Come now, you know better than that, slave. If you're not going to be properly grateful, you can do without."

Fighting back a whimper, he looked up at her pitifully, trying his best to nuzzle the hand that held his hair so painfully tight. "Thank you for allowing your slave to drink, Mistress. Your slave thanks you with all his heart for this kindness."