Mom's Favorite Toy

Michelle Scott, you must understand, is a sweetheart. Not just to her family, or people close to her, but basically everyone she encountered. Mellow and cheerful, she was a woman who knew how to keep a smile on her face at all times, and treat people as kindly as they could be treated. Born and raised in the lower class, the life of luxury she had married into was beyond her wildest dreams, and she loved spreading the good fortune around when she could. She and her husband took part in many charitable foundations and causes, as expected of ones of their high means, but for those she knew personally, even in passing, it went beyond that. When Daisy turned fourteen, she got to take twenty of her friends to a five-star ski resort for a weekend. When Troy, her brother, turned thirteen, his entire class left his birthday party with the latest Playstation model in their gift bags. Every time one of her kids had friends over, Michelle made sure she had the most exquisite baked goods and treats were laying around. Becoming friends with one of Michelle's children was akin to gaining access to a world that these kids would otherwise have never been able to so much as sniff, all thanks to Michelle's generosity. She was as sweet as they came.

And yet, here was this stranger, looking as if he was about ready to piss himself just from her presence.

Michelle looked over her shoulder, jerking her head towards the terrified prisoner. "Come on, sweetie, say hello." She sounded as if she thought all of this was entirely normal.

Trepidatiously, Daisy took one step into the room, this time slowly examining the prisoner and the way in which he was restrained. The pillories that pinned his head and hands in place were secured together by metal strips on either side of the thick wooden boards. A metal apparatus beneath his lower torso was forcing his rear end up high behind him, also wrapping a strap around his waist. His ankles and knees were also secured down on the floor, ensuring he couldn't move very much. Daisy didn't really know that much about bondage or restraints, but it seemed fairly elaborate. This room also had a lush carpet, but the area under and immediately surrounding the imprisoned man was concrete, with a drain underneath him.

"U-uh..." she gave an awkward little wave towards him. "Um...hi?" She didn't really know what else to do, torn between the unconditional trust she had in her mother and the indisputably macabre scenario that was playing out right in front of her eyes. The naked prisoner looked Daisy over a few times, and despite his obvious terror and awful situation, was able to acknowledge her beauty with an obvious erection. Daisy blushed at the sight, but Michelle just chuckled.

"Oh, he's really happy to see you!" she enthused. Her tone did an immediate flip, voice becoming dark and stern as she glared down at him. "I suppose that must mean he finds me ugly, then."

Immediately, the man snapped his attention back to Michelle, enthusiastically shaking his head no in response to her implication, bondage rack jangling back and forth. He whimpered and groaned fearfully, but did not offer a verbal reply, at least not one containing any actual words.

Michelle gave a warm smile and bent back down to stroke his head a few times. "Don't worry about it, baby. She's hotter than me, I get it."

Daisy snapped herself out of her semi-stupor. "Mom!" she hissed, gesturing emphatically with her right hand. "Come over here!"

Michelle stood back up, going over to her daughter's side, wrapping her right arm around Daisy's shoulders. Daisy unconsciously shied away from her touch, still not sure what to make of all this, questioning everything she thought she knew about her mother.

"Oh, don't be like that," Michelle said, keeping her voice low and quiet. "What's the matter?"

"W-what's the matter?!" Daisy repeated. "I...okay, Mom." She pointed over towards the prisoner. "I don't know if you think this is...normal, or something. Like, it's something that doesn't have to be explained. But I assure you, it's the furthest thing from normal. So, explain this to me! Explain all of it! Who is that?! What is this?!"

"Calm down, darling," Michelle said. "He's nobody. No one. He's my plaything. My favorite toy. That's all there is to it."

"Uh...f-favorite toy?" Daisy repeated, face still contorted in confusion as she glanced back over towards the terrified prisoner. "No, no, seriously, who is he?!" Daisy took a second to study the actual man rather than just his circumstances. There wasn't a ton to say, he was a relatively skinny and fit-looking young adult, maybe a few years past twenty, with short black hair. Somewhat generic, but if you looked past his abject terror, he seemed pretty normal, and maybe even a little attractive.

"He's my toy," Michelle re-iterated with a shrug. "That's all he is now. There's nothing else to him. Whatever kind of person he was or life he was leading, that's all been wiped away now. He's my toy, and I thought you might be interested in playing with him a bit. I don't mind sharing my toys. I think you're old enough to appreciate him now."

"U-uh..." Daisy scratched the side of her face, still feeling like her mother was assuming far too much normalcy about keeping a naked man chained in in a secret basement chamber. "Mom, you're freaking me out right now!" She pointed towards him again. "I...that's a person."

"Was a person," Michelle corrected. "The moment he was brought here, he ceased to be anything beyond my plaything, existing only for my amusement and at my whim. When you were three, you had a favorite doll, the bunny doll, remember? You took it everywhere and did everything with it. When you were seven, you had that giant dollhouse, you played make-believe with it every single night. When you were nine, you got your own cell phone, and it never left your side for more than five seconds until you got a new one. Think about those things, sweetheart. They all existed for no reason other than to serve you in one way or another, everything they did was because you wanted them to do it, and as soon as you no longer had a need for them, you got rid of them. Well." She gestured towards the prisoner. "Those were your toys. This is mine. You get it now?"

"No!" Daisy snapped. "W-Well...yeah, I guess, but...w-what did he do?"

Michelle shrugged. "Exist. Catch my eye. Not be a person of significant value who might be missed." She easily interpreted the look on her daughter's face, so continued on. "Think about it, sweetie. It's hard, going through life, no matter who you are or what you do. Life finds a way to be difficult for us all, at some point. Some people alleviate it through therapy or medication, some people suppress it with drugs, alcohol, video games, television, or sports, some take it out on their spouses, children, or pets, but...for those of us with the means to make someone disappear off the streets, why shouldn't we be able to relieve our stress and take out our frustrations on a human toy? People like us, of wealth, power, talent, beauty, shouldn't we have extraordinary ways to have fun?"

Daisy was not entirely convinced, eyes darting back and forth between the male prisoner and her mother, her mind practically having to reboot entirely in light of this side of her mom that she had never seen before. "Uh...wow."

Michelle nodded knowingly. "Take it from me. Nothing helps slurp away the stress of being a caring, loving mother of six children and the sweet wife of a celebrity all day quite like having fun with a human toy in your free time."

Daisy grimaced, scratching the back of her head. "But, I don't...w-what do you do with him?"

She couldn't believe she was asking that, like she wanted to know. But she was actually sort of curious now. In some weird, twisted way, Michelle actually had managed to talk Daisy down a little bit. At the end of the day, say what you will about ethics, morality, concern for human rights, or whatever else constituted being a good person, the deepest fear was ultimately getting caught and being in trouble. And if what her mother was saying was true, there was no concern of that.

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Part Five: A Sadist Is Born [05ASIB]

"I'll show you, be right back," Michelle said, shuffling past her daughter and leaving the room. Daisy put her hand up to her chin, staring over at the restrained prisoner, who had not stopped panting heavily in fear since the two women had gotten there. He glanced up, noticing Michelle was gone, then looked over at Daisy.

"P-please," he panted under his breath, just loud enough for Daisy to catch it. She saw tear streaks down his face, evidence that he had been sobbing.

"Huh?" The gorgeous blonde strided over towards him, swallowing her mild embarrassment at his nudity.

"Please, help me!" he whispered.

Daisy stopped a couple steps away, studying him, hand up by her chin again.

"Look, Miss, please, I'm begging you, you gotta get me out of here!" he said, words frantic and panicked, spilling out of his mouth at record speeds. "You don't get it, the shit she does to me, I...I don't even know how long I've been here! Please, Miss, I'll do anything you want, just get me out of here, I can't do this anymore, please!"

Either this man was the greatest actor in the world, or he was under the impression that Michelle was going to come back with a hammer and start systematically breaking every single bone in his body. There didn't seem to be much of a middle ground.

"R-really, I'll do anything, just get me out of here!" he continued, voice raspy, as if he hadn't used it a lot lately. "PLEASE!"

"Who are you?" Daisy asked. It was a ridiculous question, given the circumstances. As if his answer could affect her next decision somehow. But she didn't really know what else to say.

"U-Uh..." he gave his head a violent shake, sending flecks of sweat in all directions. "M-Mark, I'm Mark." He looked up at her. "I'm twenty-two years old, I...I worked for Amazon, I...I was a driver..."

"So...you don't want to be here?" Daisy asked, aware that the question probably sounded extremely stupid to Mark. But part of her was wondering if this was just some very convincing act or roleplay. And if it was, she didn't want to do anything stupid.

"Wh-no! I don't! I really, really don't! Please, I'm begging you, help me get out of here and—"

Mark fell silent instantly as Michelle re-appeared in the doorway, wheeling a large cart in front of her into the room. He gave Daisy a pleading look, wide-eyed and desperate, clearly hoping that his begging had reached her. And it had. Unfortunately for him, it had reached her in a decidedly unexpected way. A way that was not going to help him get any closer to escaping his imprisonment.

Daisy had never considered herself a sadist before. She couldn't recall ever getting any enjoyment out of watching others suffer or go through misfortune. Quite the opposite, in fact. And yet, listening to this man desperately beg her to help him out of his captivity, to hear the frantic tones he used that spoke to his agony, and to know she held so much power over him, gave her a thrill. And, as she mulled her choices, she couldn't lie to herself. The thought of denying this man the mercy that she could grant him was far more exciting than just granting it.

Learn something new every day.

She didn't show any of this outwardly. Not yet. She was self-aware enough to know that her deviant thoughts were not something to be proud of. But deep down, she knew she had already made her decision. Mark wasn't going anywhere.

"So, what do you think?" Michelle asked, wheeling the cart over next to her daughter and her prisoner, opening the top lid with a little pop.

Daisy wasn't quite sure how to answer that yet, so she silently studied Mark further. This third inspection revealed that he wasn't actually one hundred percent nude. He had a thin ankle bracelet on his right ankle. She didn't think much of it other than simply noting that it was present.

"So, let me guess." Michelle reached down into the cart and pulled out a metallic rod from it, gripping the handle in her right hand. "While I was gone, my little toy here decided to speak out of turn."

"Hm?" Daisy turned to glance over her shoulder at her mom, practically jumping away at the sight of the nasty looking rod in her hands. "Ah!"

"You're not the one who needs to be scared of this thing," Michelle said cheerfully. It seemed that Mark agreed, as his shaking and terrified whimpers only intensified at the sight of the tool. "Now, am I right?"

Daisy thought back to their conversation, or at least what loosely passed as one, replaying it in her mind. "Uh...you mean, did he say something first?"

"He's not allowed to talk unless directly asked to respond to something," Michelle explained. "Those are the rules, and without rules, there is only anarchy. And without punishing rule violations, then there may as well be no rules." She went up next to Mark, who did all he could to move himself away from her, which was not very much at all. "Well?"

"Umm..." she looked at Mark's pathetic, shivering figure, and decided she was curious about what 'punishing' entailed. "Y-yeah."

Michelle pressed a button on the handle of the rod with her thumb, causing a blue arc of electricity to start dancing on the tip of the tool. She jabbed it into the side of Mark's torso.

The guttural scream of pain from Mark, an order of magnitude beyond even his pathetic sobbing and whimpering, certainly left an impression on Daisy, and she felt the instinctive tug of pity towards him. His whole body convulsed for the entire duration of the shock, which was a good two seconds, from what Daisy now realized was probably some sort of cattle prod. When she finally pulled it off of his side, Mark was heaving out breaths, saliva dangling from the corners of his mouth, still spasming from the aftereffects.

"Ten," Michelle said, propping the rod up on her shoulder. "And...women's intuition has me suspecting that he might have spoken out of turn in order to ask you to help him escape. Right?"

Daisy watched him shudder in his bonds, sucking down heaving gasps to try to settle the sharp pain he had just been subjected to. Once that reflexive bout of conscience had simmered down, she had to acknowledge the perverse appeal of observing someone suffer extremely disproportionate retribution. It was a testament to the complete and absolute power that Michelle held over this man, that she was free to electrocute him for the misdeed of saying words. Deviantly, Daisy wanted to see more of it.

"That he did," Daisy admitted. With a frighteningly cheerful look, Michelle pressed the prod back into Mark's side and ignited it. He screamed yet again, an animalistic howl that Daisy had to admit was reaching her in ways that she hadn't been reached before. The blonde bombshell was very used to being in control in life. Her father's immense wealth, her stunning good looks, and top percentile athletic abilities usually made her the one holding all the cards. But this level of control, she didn't think would appeal to her. It was.

Michelle kept the prod in for a good five seconds this time. By the time she had released Mark from the intense shocks, he was crying again, snot dripping down his upper chin in a gross testament to how far he was being pushed physically.

"Twenty-five," she said. "And you're lucky it's not more, just for being that stupid. Did you really think I'd be bringing someone down here if I thought there was even a remote chance they'd consider doing anything to take my toy away from me?"

Daisy, for the first time since being shown this secret chamber, cracked a bemused grin, thinking about how much she had been considering bailing out of this over the last five minutes, and how many times she had been downright scared of what her mom was revealing to her. Now, however, you couldn't have dragged her away. She wanted to see what happened next. See if this unabashed cruelty continued to push her buttons.

"You know, it's been awfully long since I've had to discipline you. I thought you were starting to figure out how things worked around here," Michelle admonished.

Daisy, even though she was fast becoming more comfortable with this situation, couldn't help but still be a little curious about how this came to be. "M-Mom, uh...Mark didn't do anything to you to end up down here, did he?"

Some part of her was convinced this had to follow some logic route. Maybe he had attempted to sexually assault her mother, or swindle her father out of a large sum of money, something where he at least deserved his current situation to an extent. Even something on the level of him being rude to one of them in public, or stealing their parking spot. Maybe none of that justified what she was seeing, but at least it would give some cause and effect.

Michelle shrugged. "I had never crossed paths with him in my life before—..." she trailed off. "What makes you think his name is Mark?"

Mark's strangled cry of fear made it clear he knew exactly where this was going. And even if there was something she could do at this point to spare him what was coming, Daisy found that she honestly didn't want to.

"He told me," Daisy replied.

Michelle shot Mark a withering look, which provided a brief warning before she jabbed the prod back into Mark's side and activated it.

The shock lasted so long, this time, Daisy could see wisps of smoke and smell burnt hair by the time it was over. Michelle kept that prod active for a good ten seconds, although it certainly felt far longer to Mark. It lasted long enough that Daisy was about to express concern that he was going to kill him, before Michelle stopped.

Mark was hanging limply in his bonds, sweat streaming out of every pore on his body and bawling beyond coherency. His hair had noticeably shifted into a haphazard mess, making Daisy think of those cartoons where someone would get electrocuted and end up with mad scientist hair. So that did actually happen in real life...

"Fifty. You don't have a name anymore, and you've been here more than long enough to know that," Michelle said sternly, although the ability of her prisoner to hear her right now was in question given he was still working to recover from the brutal shock torture. "Your predecessors would never have remembered their name after four months as my toy, I'm disappointed."

"Predecessors?" Daisy repeated, head snapping over to look at her mother.

"Oh, he's not the first toy I've had down here," Michelle said, immediately mellowing out from her serious lecturing of the prisoner. "Not by a long shot."

"Where are the others?" Daisy asked, twisting around to look around the room, as if they might be somewhere here and she simply hadn't noticed them before, as absurd as that notion was.

Michelle shrugged. "What do you do to a toy when you no longer have any use for it?" She spun the prod around in her hand and went back over to the cart, returning it to the slot it had previously occupied. "And no, he is here because I wanted him to be, and everything I do to him I do because I want to. There is no other reason for any of it."

Daisy nodded, feeling her inhibitions continue to slowly melt away. She liked that answer, and she was becoming less and less ashamed of that. For this to be some sort of sick, or even disproportionate, retribution would have been one thing. But for there to be no cause or reason for it at all, for this man's only crime to have been simply existing, for this sick and twisted fate to be his because of nothing he did, and just because Michelle wanted it, and she had the power to force that fate on him...that was the true thrill.