"Have we not discussed this, Alanna?"
She started and turned to see him. "Oh... I... discussed what?"
"Do not give me that shit, princess. We discussed your little hobby."
"Yes. The drugs." He caught her forcefully by the chin, looked her in the eye. She whined his name, and he gave her a little shake. "I told you that you are only to take what I give you. When I give it to you. And I do not remember supplying you tonight."
"Yes. Yes, you are." He released her, and she fell back onto the stool at the vanity table, eyeing him nervously. "Now... what am I going to do with you?" he mused, rummaging through her drawers.
"What are you doing?"
"Confiscating your supplies," he said, absently stuffing syringes in his pockets. "When I said you're not to do anything that I do not myself give you you, I meant it. You have no discipline, Alanna, and you are sorely in need of some." He slammed the drawer shut. "All of your drugs come through me."
"No. That's not fair. I'm an adult, I can make my own-"
He seized her by the hair at the nape of her neck, and she cried out. "No. You cannot. You belong to me, princess, and you know it. I control who you fuck, I control what you put into your system. This?" He picked up the hand mirror she used to do lines on, and threw it at the wall behind her head. It bounced and landed in front of her, shattering. "You don't need it."
Seven years of bad luck.
Current total: Still $1,391.
Donate at http://www.rainn.org/donate.html or PayPal me at paypal AT shadesong.com.
(I had to tone this one down. A lot.)
6 more hours. 12 more posts.