"Louder and like you mean it."
She shuts her eyes for a minute, then repeats, "Thank you, Sir." She slinks over to me, her leash scraping on the cobblestones.
"Kneel," I order.
She assumes the position and waits.
I caress her cheek and move my face in front of hers. I lift her chin up and ask, "Who do you hate most in this world?"
Surprise fills her expression. She freezes.
Let the games begin.
"I asked you a question. I want an honest answer," I assert.
Her voice turns flat. She admits, "My father."
I arch my eyebrows.
She clears her throat. "Sir. My father, Sir."
"Why do you hate your father?"
Her face hardens. She blinks hard.
I wrap the leash around her chin, so there's no slack, and gently tug.
Flames from the fire dance in her blues. She gasps, and I demand, "Tell me."
The sad truth comes out. She confesses, "He's never loved me. I'm just someone he wants for show-and-tell."
"What else don't you like about your father?"
Her lip trembles. She whispers, "Why are you asking me this?"
"The next time you ask me a question without seeking permission first, you'll be in the cage. Understand?" I warn.
Her eyes dart to the cage, then back to me.
"Well? Understand?" I push.
"Yes, Sir."
"Last time I'm asking. What else don't you like about your father?"
She clenches her jaw, and I give her a moment. She reveals, "He's selfish, a liar, and cruel."
"How is he cruel?"
She blinks, and a tear slides down her cheek.
I soften my voice. "Tell me, pet."
Her voice cracks. "He'll do anything to have full control over me."
I wait.
She adds, "Sir."