Night Crawler, Vol. 3
Jae Howard
Copyright Jae Howard 2011
Published at Smashwords
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The New Girls
First of all, Shelly and I had a few things to clear up and some details that needed to be tended to before we secured my next slave.
I let Shelly sit at my feet after she finished my leftovers tonight, which I sometimes let her eat and lick off my plate if I felt she deserved to eat and if she seemed sufficiently thankful for it. Sometimes I did let her sit by my feet while I talked to her after she ate and tonight I felt like talking actually I had some questions for her. The not eating all of the time, it did her some good in a way; she lost all that fat in no time. Of course I never gave her silverware and if she got any on the floor I would send her back into lock up until she could promise not to be such a pig the next time I let her eat. She didn’t spill any on the floor so I let her sit up so I could ask her a few questions tonight. I told her not to look directly at me, as I don’t like her staring at me, so she averted her eyes and I started asking her some questions. For one thing, I wanted to know where the kid was. He should be around 10 or 11 now and although I didn’t want to deal with a kid, I wanted to know where he was, so I asked her, “Where is the brat?” She told me she wasn’t sure where he was. I asked her, “What do you mean you aren’t sure where he is?” She then said, “Steve, he did a lot of bad things and I had to give him up. When he was 4 years old, he started killing animals and became increasingly violent even threatening to kill me. I didn’t know what to do with him anymore. He fought constantly at school and stabbed 4 other children with a pencil and even the counselors thought he might do better to be in a controlled environment as they said his behavior was not normal, nor was it getting better. I had no idea what to do with him. I woke up twice to him standing over my bed with a knife and I signed him into a state correction facility and eventually signed over my rights to him. He was only ten, but the police had been to my apartment dozens of times and counseling was not helping him at all.” I kind of smiled and asked her, “So what did you name him?” She said, “His name is Damien.”