"Do you trust me?"

I ask this question every time we play, each time I reach for the silk ropes and the stool. Their answer registers to my ears, but slides off my thoughts without any resistance. Why would they trust me after everything I've showed that I desire, everything that I've shown myself capable of?

While I bind the petite fox, I can't help but let the thoughts run their course while my practiced hands work, almost on autopilot. Tying their hands behind the back is the only necessary step, decorating their body with extraneous ropes is something that I do to stall for time, and for aesthetics. The strands dig in and make the cute fox wiggle in discomfort as I contemplate how far we'll go tonight.

Helping them up onto the stool, one final rope is looped around their neck as they smile down at me. Smiling back coldly, I feel myself slip down into the dark sea of sadism, as I nudge the stool with a foot. A part of me says I should care more. I think that part is the real me? It doesn't matter right now, as I kick the platform away and begin to enjoy the show.

Such a frail thing, the struggling vulpine is. Ten seconds... Am I more afraid that I'll lose them or that I'll be found out? Fifteen... Looking at their face contorted in pain, I can't understand why anyone would choose me. Twenty... I could leave them up there till the struggles stop. Twenty Five... Why did I have to be broken this way? Thirty... That was when I said I'd stop, but I know they can take a little more. Thirty Five... I hate that it seems only pain will sate me.

With their legs barely kicking anymore, I grab the stool and slide it back beside them, lifting the near-corpse from the noose and lying them on a nearby mattress as I massage their neck, checking for permanent injury as I feel their chest begin to rise and fall again.

Lying beside the fox and forcing them to stay down, I whisper the question again, afraid to face the answer, as always.

"Do you trust me still?"