There Are No Bad Dogs in This World (2)
Being confined to a single place was, it turned out, more tedious and dull than one could imagine.
Karen Florence, despite the massive psychological blow she'd taken, proved no exception.
At first, yes, rage and a sense of betrayal had churned hot in her chest over the hand she'd been dealt. But human emotion was, by its very nature, a remarkably volatile thing — which is to say, awfully difficult to sustain. Merely keeping a feeling from fraying at the edges consumed a fair amount of energy and stamina, all the more so when no one was feeding kindling to the fire at regular intervals. Aside from that first day, they'd left her entirely alone, and so Karen's anger slowly burned itself out.
Besides, she was possessed of unusual mental resilience. She recovered from shocks quickly. With a firm core and a flexible mind, she was the sort who tended to look on the bright side of any situation.
Other than being locked up in here, there's really nothing wrong.
Come to think of it, hadn't she even joined her body with Rihardt's — the very thing she'd wanted? Even if the process itself had been a touch miserable.
...Nnh.
Was it because she was recalling the time she'd spent entangled with Rihardt? A strange throbbing pulsed low in Karen's belly.
He was big. Enormously so.
She brought to mind what she'd seen of Rihardt that day. Small as her own frame was, his had been not merely large but frankly brutal in both thickness and length. Perhaps that was why, even after all this time, her groin still ached with a dull, stinging soreness.
Is that what a normal man looks like?
Having never known another man, male anatomy remained uncharted territory for Karen. If Lucifer had known what she was thinking, she would surely have said, "Absolutely not. Please stop making hasty generalizations."
At any rate, the business she'd conducted with Rihardt had been ferocious. So ferocious that the walls inside her had even taken faint tears. Small wonder, given that Karen Florence had trained not one whit in that particular department.
No, honestly — even if I had trained, what could anyone do about a size and girth like that?
Merely recalling the sensation of being pried open, of something forcing its way in whether she willed it or not, sent blood flooding to her face. There was the crushing weight, too, bearing down on her belly like a boulder, and the sour heat that came with it. Karen Florence was hardly so naive that she couldn't recognize arousal for what it was.
The moment her insides had been filled so completely that even breathing was a struggle. The alien feeling, with every movement, of her very organs being scraped away. That had been the first time Karen learned she could pant like a beast.
Lucifer goes through that every single time?
A little — truly, only a little — Karen found herself feeling sorry for Lucifer. If even she, who had conditioned her body for years, had suffered this much, then for an ordinary woman like Lucifer, bedding Rihardt had to be nothing short of torture.
Take that every day without fail, and you'd be loose in no time.
And Lucifer had never trained her body at all. Pretty face or no, what good was it if the act left her unsatisfied? Wouldn't it be only a matter of time before Rihardt lost interest in her?
Which meant that, given time, Rihardt might yet take me into his arms even more deeply—
Smack.
A shallow, stupid thought.
Was I seriously still craving Rihardt's affection?
The man had been violent enough to throw her in a cell, hadn't he? Her days in the basement had taught her a fair amount about how little he resembled the good person she'd once imagined.
Having dealt her own cheek a stinging blow, Karen Florence shook her head briskly and looked around. With her mind settled, her attention drifted elsewhere — to the layout of the basement, to its condition. Like it or not, this was to be her home for the foreseeable future, so she couldn't help taking stock of her surroundings.
Discomforts of confinement? Well, moving her hands and feet took some effort, but beyond that, precious little. Meals arrived faithfully, morning, noon, and night, and the bedding was surprisingly decent. Someone evidently sprayed a deodorizing scent, for there was no real stench, and the place seemed to be cleaned on a regular basis. Even the spot reserved for answering nature's call was tolerably clean. Odd as it sounded, apart from never seeing the sun, the basement was, in its own way, quite livable.
That, however, judged the place purely as living quarters. In terms of entertainment, it was woefully deficient.
Would it kill them to toss in a few books?
There was simply nothing to relieve the boredom. Even a few volumes of Lou Church doctrine would have been better than nothing at all.
I suppose it's rich for a prisoner to be demanding amenities.
In short, from Karen's standpoint, the current situation was unbearable in its dullness — and the absence of her one conversation partner only made it worse.
Bianca. Not a match for Lucifer, but a reasonably pretty girl in her own right.
Is comparing her to Lucifer a bit unfair?
Lucifer, after all, possessed a beauty that outshone most noble-born daughters. So much so that even Karen — who had always believed comparing people was pointless — had felt the sting of envy and jealousy.
Karen Florence shook her head again. Locked up with nothing to do, her stray thoughts simply refused to stop — and naturally, her mind kept circling back to just how beautiful Lucifer was.
Bianca was afraid of Rihardt.
Talk to someone long enough, and things surface whether you intend them to or not. Like the existence of topics Bianca flinched away from.
Hard as it is to believe, it must have been Rihardt's doing.
After all, the girl broke into compulsive, trembling apologies at the mere mention of his name. Judging by Bianca's manner, and by the scars that marked her body, Rihardt had without question done something terrible to her.
Then, too, the incident just before she'd left the basement lodged in Karen's memory with unusual tenacity.
The night Lucifer came down. It had been enough of a commotion that Karen Florence couldn't help but wake. She simply hadn't let on that she was awake, wanting first to understand what was happening.
Cracking her eyes into a thin squint, she'd seen Lucifer descending with the stableman. Catching scraps of their exchange, she gathered that the stableman was Bianca's father. And Lucifer had looked ready to hurt him. Karen had nearly cried out a warning before she could stop herself.
But soon there was no need.
Because Lucifer gave up.
Why? She'd betrayed Karen without a flicker of hesitation, yet she couldn't bring herself to harm Bianca's father? Karen had been on the verge of sneering at the double standard — and then Lucifer had broken into tears.
And here I thought that shameless creature didn't have a feeling in her.
She had watched Lucifer's frail, gentle inside laid bare for anyone to see. Perhaps if she'd never witnessed it, things might be different. But having seen the girl's vulnerable heart, she couldn't think any other way. That maybe Lucifer, too, had reasons of her own.
Karen was still turning all this over in her mind when—
Clank. Groooan.
The heavy iron door was opening. That door opening meant one thing and one thing only: Rihardt had come to visit.
Sure enough, his voice arrived moments later.
"Keeping well, Karen?"
Karen, who had some history of dealing with Rihardt, could hear at once that the voice was buoyant. What happy occasion could there possibly be, to put that much delight in his tone?
A faintly wary Karen fired back.
"...Do I look like I've been keeping well to you?"
"You look quite dreadfully bored."
"And the man who knows it leaves a person to rot here anyway?"
"I'm sorry, Karen. I've been rather busy in my own right, so I haven't had the leisure to attend to you. Before long, though, I'll see that you never have a spare moment to be bored. And then, truly, the fun will begin."
Something in his reply sent an inexplicable chill skittering down Karen Florence's spine, and she pasted on a smile.
"Why, how touching — I could weep with gratitude. Ah, and while you're at it, might you send down a few of the Lou Church's holy scriptures? The waiting is nothing short of tedious."
"That much is easy. I'll have a word with Lucy."
"...So why did you come down here, anyway? Planning to use me as a stand-in for Lucy again?"
The words were barely out of her mouth before regret welled up in Karen. She might as well have announced to his face that the matter weighed on her.
"No, no. Today I've come to take my puppy for a walk."
A walk?
A hollow laugh spilled out of Karen.
"A walk... and you came here, to this dreary hole? Your puppy must simply adore it."
"Well, I did want you to see her, Karen. My puppy."
"What, how special can a dog possibly be, that you'd have to show me?"
Instead of answering, Rihardt merely shrugged. Then, as Karen's eyes traveled over him, she realized his right hand was holding something.
A leash?
Rihardt was gripping a sturdy lead, and Karen's gaze slid along its length.
The leash attached to a collar. A leather collar — and one that looked a far cry from anything a person would wear as ornament. Well, naturally; it was a collar meant for a dog.
The problem was that the creature wearing it was no dog at all, but a human being.
And not just any human — the very woman she'd been thinking about not a minute ago.
"Lucifer?"
At the name, the ash-haired girl winced and ducked her head. Even her deathly pale face had gone quite red, as though being seen in this state were itself the deepest humiliation. Fair enough, Karen supposed — crawling on all fours dressed like that would shame anyone.
Lucifer was not in the demure maid's uniform Karen had seen on her every time before. She wore a lewd garment of beast fur that covered only the most essential parts — and even those parts weren't covered fully. Every movement let a nipple or the swell of her sex peek through, the sort of outfit that seemed purpose-built to inflame a man's appetite. And at the base of her tailbone, something shaped like a puppy's tail had been fixed in place — a final touch of irony.
Good grief.
Karen let out an inward gasp of admiration. She couldn't help it. The body that loose, baggy maid's uniform had always swallowed whole was now on open display.
Beneath collarbones carved deep as a mountain gorge, large, round breasts sat plainly in view. And that nipped-in waist flowing into wide hips. Full thighs and peach-toned buttocks swaying with each crawl — the sight snared the eye and would not let go. A woman's body that could rouse lust in any man alive.
It was more than enough to leave Karen feeling utterly robbed by comparison. And how did Lucifer read the naked envy in Karen's eyes? Her face flooded redder still.
"Karen's speaking to you. Answer her, Lucy."
"........."
Lucifer only worked her mouth, no sound coming. She looked as though the words simply refused to leave her throat.
Was something the matter with her?
Rihardt's right hand snapped upward. The leash wrenched taut, and Lucifer, mid-crawl, crumpled in a graceless heap.
"Hck—! Kkh—! Nnngh...!"
"Does what I say mean nothing to you?"
"...Hnn... nnh...!"
Lucifer cried out desperately, imitating a puppy's whine. To think that Lucifer could be reduced to something so wretched.
"Now, then — you must greet Karen properly, hm?"
At the word greet, the blood drained from Lucifer's face. This, from a face that had been scarlet only moments before.
Smiling, Rihardt pressed her again.
"Lucy."
Lucifer settled herself the way a dog sits, then lifted her left leg. The way a dog raises one hind leg to piss. Her most secret place, the whole length of her spread thighs, was laid bare without a shred of cover.
"Arf! Arf! Arf!"
Barking like a dog, Lucifer's expression was endlessly, bottomlessly dark.
She should have felt a thrill of vindication watching Lucifer be handled so roughly. Instead, for some reason, Karen felt none at all.
If anything, she felt pity.
Had she known her heart would turn out like this, she would never have listened to Lucifer's sobbing that night.