You don't sleep well.

Your sleep is disturbed many times that night from such dreams of failure. In some Morgan reacts too quickly, in some you miss, and in some she simply compels you to stop and to your horror you cannot disobey her. By the time you hear your 6AM alarm you've lived the consequences of your hesitation at least a hundred times over in vivid detail. You shake your head as you sit up wearily. All through the day you are a ghost, passing through time in a haze. You feel cold water washing over you in the shower, the strain on your muscles as you bend and scrub, the weight of the gun as you drop it in your pocket before walking out the door to your mother's waiting car. You ride to Morgan's in silence. When you arrive, you exit the car as you've done so many times before.

"Going shopping. Pick you up after. Love you!" Your mother says.

"Love you too." You reply and close the door. You walk through the lobby, to the elevator, down the corridor to your destination. You're surprisingly calm through it all. You pull the gun from your pocket in the empty waiting room but everything feels far away like you're not really there. You look down at it one last time as you place your hand on the knob to Morgan's office door. You gulp, take a deep breath, and push the door open. Morgan's chair is turned away from the door but you can see a head poking over the top. Without thinking you point the gun and pull the trigger. A hole opens in the back of the chair as the crack of the shot echos briefly in the room. You stare at it, feeling somewhat of an anticlimax. You feel anger welling up inside you and you pull the trigger again and again putting round after round into the back of the chair until you hear a click, signalling the gun is empty.

The anger subsides as you peer through the smoke filled room. You drop the now useless gun to your side and slowly walk around the desk. You hear your heartbeat in your ears as you go, along with a loud ringing. Through the haze you see a hand resting on the chair's arm as you come around. Your heart sinks when you realize it's tied down, it stops when you see who is sitting in the chair. Slumped over, legs and arms still bound to the chair, with tape over his mouth, sits George. You run to him and look at his eyes but they are empty, staring dead at the floor.

"Oh fuck! Oh no! Shit! Fuck! No!" You begin to babble and shake violently, you are startled to your feet when you hear another voice, coming from the direction of Morgan's private bathroom.

"Oh my Quinton, I did not know you had it in you boy." You look and your eyes go wide as you see Chris, Morgan, and Tiffany standing in the doorway with amused looks on their faces. Chris is embracing them from behind and they stand in front of him. You look to Morgan and she smiles, dripping with evil as your eyes meet hers.

"Your twisted bitch is surprised as well Master." Panicking you raise the gun and pull the trigger, but all you hear is a click, and then another. Morgan and Tiffany burst into giggles and Chris howls with laughter.

"Shot your load early did you?" Chris continues to laugh at you as the two women move out of his way, no longer needed to shield him. He walks toward you. You keep pointing the gun and trying to fire it hoping for some kind of miracle that never comes. You're shaking violently by the time he stands in front of you. He stares down at you with those grey eyes that only seem to come alive when you're suffering beneath their gaze. He takes the gun from you, laughter subsiding to a wicked grin. "Now now." He says in a condescending tone. "Little sissy bois shouldn't play with guns." He looks at the pistol that appears comically small in his massive hand. "Even little purse guns like this." He laughs once more. Tiffany is giggling and pointing at your crotch from the corner of the room.

"Master! The little sissy pissed himself." She puts a hand over her mouth as she bursts into a full laugh. Chris looks down and his laughter grows louder. You feel the warmth from wetting yourself but do not blush. You're too afraid for embarrassment as your knees buckle beneath you. Squatting down, you curl into a ball at Chris's feet, the taunting, sadistic laughter of your three tormentors echoing through you. You begin to hyperventilate as your eyes water and tears stream down your face. You don't even ask yourself how this could happen, thought has left your mind as you almost convulse with terror. Chris places a booted foot on your head, pressing the side of your face into the carpet.

"Your friend Kelly's not as sneaky as she thinks. My bitch made her the first time she tried to follow her home." The words barely register as you feel yourself blacking out. You stare at Morgan past Chris's boot in the corner of the room still. She's quieted now as well and she looks like a wicked queen from some fairy tale staring back at you. "We are gonna have to work on you good this weekend." Chris says, smiling from ear to ear now. "Undid all my ****'s hard work." He twists his ankle, digging the sole of the boot into your cheek. You feel a crushing pressure before he lifts his foot from the side of your face, allowing you to breathe easier. Chris squats down and lifts your head by the hair. "You should've seen the sad, sad look on your boys face when Tiff tied him to that chair." You hear Tiffany chuckle from the corner. Happy to have sent her former fiance to his fate on the word of her new god and master. Chris's eyes bore into you with sadistic pleasure. He releases your hair and you snap away, curling more tightly into a ball. Chris stands and turns to Morgan who is still standing in the bathroom doorway. "Get him a shot."

"Sir." She nods and turns around, disappearing through the bathroom door. You can hear her heels click on the tile as she approaches the sink. Chris turns to Tiffany.

"Clean your fiance up when we're gone. Get him all packed and we'll come back for him later." Tiffany bows her head with a smile.

"Of course, Sir. Your worthless whores live to serve Master." Chris grins and turns back to you.

"I got your spy friend trussed up somewhere. You'll be seeing her soon." You watch Morgan coming back from the bathroom with a syringe in her hand. "She's fuckin hot by the way Quinton, thank you once again. You're like a hot bitch magnet. Too bad you're such a little pussy yourself." Morgan bends over to push the needle into your shoulder. You don't resist as Chris's taunts fade into the distance. Your vision blackens.