Catherine reclined in her chair, idly rubbing her big toe back and forth along the tiny man pinned beneath it. She nursed her gin and tonic, giving a glance down to the man writhing underneath her toe. He grasped the edges of her toe, his tiny fingers sinking into the flesh. It tickled, but the real pleasure for Catherine came from his utter weakness against her. He had asked – no, to his credit, he had begged – to be released from his duties as her sex toy. He claimed it caused troubles with one of the other little slave girls, or something to that effect. Catherine hadn't said a word. She didn't have to. She pinned him on his back and stroked his tiny crotch, feeling the bump of his erection against the pad of her big toe. It wasn't long before he came, his wet warmth spreading thinly on her toe. She lifted it up and rubbed it in his face, her smile growing wider.

“On your feet.” She said. He wearily rose, his eyes turned down to the ground. He didn't dare wipe himself off, and Catherine let him stand there feeling his humiliation slowly run down his face. She took a drag of her cigarette, leaned forward, and blew the smoke in his face. The tiny man closed his eyes and coughed, but said nothing against his giant Mistress. “Now, do you really want to be free of your duties as my plaything?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He said quietly. She leaned down again, tilting her ear to face him.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” She asked.

“Yes, ma'am.” The man repeated. There was a beat, and he continued. “I would like to be released of my duties as your plaything, ma'am.”

“Well that's too bad.” Catherine said, righting herself again with a grin on her face. “Now run along and tell anyone who has an objection to it that they can bring it up with me personally.” She shooed him away with her foot, knocking him over in the process. He scrambled to his feet and ran into another room. Catherine sighed, taking a drag from her cigarette. She noticed it was finished and snuffed it out in her ashtray, then took a moment to light another one. She closed her eyes as she inhaled. She had always enjoyed the first puff of a new cigarette. As she reclined back in her chair, she heard the clack-clack-clack of her daughter running down the hall to see her.

“Mom! Mom!” She cried. Catherine let out a soft sigh. It wasn't that she begrudged her daughter a thing, but sometimes performing her motherly duties got in the way of her own enjoyment. She opened her eyes, facing her beautiful daughter with a smile.

“Yes, Maribelle?”

“Mom, can I get married to Georgia?” Catherine didn't know the slaves by name, but she'd never met a boy named Georgia.

“Why would you want to do such a thing?” She asked.

“Because she's pretty and she's friendly and she's nice.” Maribelle said, nodding to punctuate her statement.

“Why don't you go and fetch little Georgia for me?” Catherine said, doing her best to mask the disgust in her voice. Maribelle nodded again, turning on her heel and racing back down the hall. “And no running!” Catherine called after her. The staccato of footfalls slowed for a moment, just long enough to put Maribelle out of eyesight, then they started right back up again. She laughed softly, and took another puff.

Her daughter returned promptly with a tiny girl squirming in her fist. Maribelle had always had a bit of a rough touch with the slaves, though it never bothered her mother. Catherine held her hand out, taking Georgia from her daughter, and looking her over. She recognized the tiny woman right away. She was the only slave in the entire house who wasn't covered in dirt. She was Catherine's husband's personal pet.

“Go play in your room for a bit dear, I'll call you again when I need you.” Maribelle did as she was told. Even at her age, she unconsciously recognized the glint in her mother's eye that indicated that she wanted to be left alone.

Catherine turned the small woman over in her hand. She wasn't just not dirt-covered, she was alabaster. Her bright orange hair stood out strikingly against her pale, flawless skin, and her body was magnificently proportioned. Catherine felt rage start to well up within her. She knew her husband probably appreciated the company of little Georgia here more than he did his own wife. The larger woman set her toy down on the table before her, looking at her with contempt. Georgia looked back with fear and humility. It was known throughout the house that nobody – big or small – was to harm Georgia. Still, this bit of immunity never seemed to give the small woman comfort when she was face-to-face with the Madame of the house.

“What did you tell my daughter?” She asked, casually smoking her cigarette.

“N-nothing, ma'am.” Georgia bowed her head respectfully, already having sunk to her knees. The girl was good, Catherine admitted that, but she found the Irish twang of her voice disgusting. She wondered how her husband could keep it up with this vermin crawling all over him.

“Bullshit. My daughter is a pure, innocent soul. Do you know what she just asked me?”

“No ma'am, I don't.” Georgia's heart raced.

“Take a guess.”

Georgia paused. She wasn't sure how to respond. She was almost positive she knew what this was about, but admitting fault was never one of her strong suits, especially not to such monsters as her owners. “I... I really have no idea, ma'am.”

“Take. A guess.”

“She... she asked about... th-the slaves?” Georgia guessed.

“What about them?”

“Did she ask where we come from?”

Catherine snorted. “No. She's young, but she's not an idiot. She knows you... lesser races have started to come around physically where you've been socially for decades.”

“Forgive me, ma'am.” Georgia said, dipping her head further as she spoke. “I did not mean to imply that.”

Catherine rolled her eyes. “She asked if she could marry you.” The words came out stilted, as if they were physically difficult for her to say. Georgia took a quick breath. This was it. Silently, she cursed herself for not being more cautious.

“I'm sorry, ma'am.” She said. “I have no idea where she got that thought from.”

“Don't lie to me. My husband may have his little crush, but you are not the only pale-skinned potato-eater out there. We can buy ten of you. So tell me how she got that ridiculous notion in her head.”

Georgia wasn't sure if Catherine was bluffing, but since it was her life on the line she decided to hedge her bets. “I... I accidentally...” She searched for the right word. “demonstrated the concept to her, ma'am.” Catherine's eyes slowly widened into a look of horror, and before she could react the tiny woman spoke out of turn to defend herself. “N-not like that, ma'am! I just meant to say, ma'am, that she noticed me kissing another woman.”

Sneering in disgust, Catherine took another drag of her cigarette, wondering what to do with this new information. “So, you're a little dyke, is that it? A tiny little mick dyke?”

The words stung. “Yes ma'am.” She replied obediently, eyes directly at her feet.

“Can't say I'm surprised.” Catherine sighed, looking absently up at the ceiling. “All you little fucks are so unclean and unsightly I have a hard time telling men from women myself.” Her eyes slowly drifted down to Georgia's beautiful form. “Except for you, of course. My husband's painted whore.”

Staying silent to avoid ire had always been Georgia's strong suit, and she made use of the talent now. She remained motionless, staring at the floor, while Catherine's eyes burned holes into the back of her head. The giant woman was waiting for a rise, anything she could use to leverage into punishment. Georgia knew she already had enough; the punishment would come. There was no reason to add more fuel to the fire.

“Does my husband fuck you?” The larger woman asked. Georgia was afraid to answer.

“Yes ma'am.”

“I don't mean with his dick, you know.” She didn't look at the kneeling Irish girl as she spoke. She stared out into the backyard, as if recalling a tale. “I mean does he penetrate that useless cunt of yours?”

Her face a bright red, Georgia nodded slowly. “Yes, ma'am.”

“What with?”

She wasn't sure if she was supposed to answer this question, but she supposed she'd never been instructed not to. “A cotton swab usually, ma'am.”

“Do you enjoy the experience?” Georgia's mouth opened quickly, her tongue positioned for a 'No,' but she stopped herself. Was that the right answer? Catherine picked up on her hesitation. “Strange. You were so quick to answer the other questions.”

“No, ma'am.” She finally said. “I don't enjoy it, ma'am.”

“Well maybe he just doesn't do it right.” Her captor responded. “Go fetch me one.”

“A-a cotton swab, ma'am?”

“Yes.” Catherine lifted the tiny woman by the hair, causing her to flail her limbs wildly in the air. She set Georgia down on the floor, and gave her a small nudge with the back of her hand towards a nearby room. “Go on, go get a cotton swab and bring it back here.”

“Yes ma'am, right away.” Georgia said obediently. She ran to the indicated room, hurrying as fast as she could despite her sense of foreboding. She was confident she knew what was coming next, but it was completely out of her power to prevent it. Disobeying the Mistress meant a far worse punishment.

She returned almost ten minutes later, carrying a cotton swab a little larger than her body. She ran to Catherine's foot and knelt, giving her toe a small kiss. The little dyke is good. Catherine thought as she bent to pick her up. Let's see how obedient she's feeling a few minutes from now. She took the swab in her fingers, bending Georgia across her alternate hand.

“So you like being fucked by women, is that it?” Georgia let out a meek sound of acceptance, even though her body was trembling powerfully. “Do you want me to fuck you, little Georgia?”

“Y-yes, ma'am.” She stuttered. She felt the cotton swab press against her labia, but half a second later she felt the other end against her ass. She opened her eyes wide, giving a jolt of surprise. Catherine's grin grew as Georgia realized what was about to happen to her.

“You know, I really don't mind that my husband treats you the way he does.” As she spoke, she forced the ends of the swabs inside. Georgia let out a yelp of pain, the bud in her ass poking painfully against her. She squirmed in discomfort but Catherine held her firm, continuing to talk. “And I don't blame you either. It's not your fault you're so pretty, right? That shouldn't be taken out on you. Don't you agree?”

“Yes, ma'am!” Georgia shrieked, bucking wildly against the fingers that restrained her. “Oh god, yes ma'am, please!” The helpless girl begged, though she was afraid to specifically beg to be let free. Catherine closed her eyes, relishing Georgia's tiny wails and cries.

“But what I don't approve of is you tainting my daughter with that... that filth. I don't care how you choose to debase yourself, but bringing an innocent young girl into it is disgusting.” Her tone was venom now, and Georgia paid keen attention to Catherine's words through her own screaming. “Tell me the name of the other filthy little sapphist right now.”

“I- I don't know!” Georgia cried. “Please ma'am, I don't know! It was just a fling! I don't know who she was!”

“Don't lie to me.” Catherine gave the swab a twist, eliciting a long, shrill shriek from the little slave girl. “Tell me her name.”

“I swear! I swear Mistress I swear I don't know who she is!” Georgia was sobbing, her nails becoming chipped and ragged from digging into the flesh of Catherine's hand. The giant woman tormented her quarry for a moment longer, then finally removed the swabs. “Oh god, thank you ma'am. Thank you thank you thank you...” The little slave descended into a series of pitiful whimpers, kissing and licking at the hand in which she was held to show her appreciation.

“Maribelle?” Catherine shouted, her voice echoing down the empty halls. She turned Georgia so they were looking each other in the eyes.

“Yeah?” Came the reply.

“Can you bring mommy the little girl you saw kissing Georgia?” The Irish girl's mouth dried up, but she tried not to show fear.

“Sure!” Several seconds later the familiar tapping came down the hall, and Maribelle arrived gleefully, holding another squirming woman in her outstretched hand. Catherine took her, looking her over.

“You're sure this was the one?”

“Mmhmm! We were just talking about it!” Maribelle said. She was happy to make her mother happy, and Catherine was beaming.

“Wonderful. Go play in your room some more, okay? I'll call you back soon.”

“Okay!” She turned and dashed back down the hall. Catherine didn't care how fast she ran, her mind was already racing with possibilities. This new woman had short, cropped black hair, and was covered in dirt. Catherine smirked.

“What's your name?” She asked.

“Chloe.” Came the reply in another sickening accent.

“So, the two of you think it's okay to teach a young girl about homosexuality?”

“No, ma'am!” Georgia said, giving a concerned look to the French girl. Catherine dropped the two onto the table before her, then lit another cigarette.

“Why even do it at all?” She asked after expelling another plume of smoke from her mouth. “Is it that you're just too stupid to understand how disgusting you're being? Or are you really so basic that you can't resist the first impulse you have?” Neither slave had a response, instead remaining silent before her. Georgia had dropped to her knees, and after a small tug on her hand, Chloe followed suit. Catherine snorted. “You, Frenchgirl, on your back now. Legs spread wide.”

The two tiny women gave each other a worried glance, but there was nothing either could do. Chloe laid back against the table, spreading her legs wide. It gave Catherine a thrill to see someone so powerless prostrate herself like that on the bigger woman's word alone. She took another drag from her cigarette, expelling the smoke in Georgia's face as she brushed the ash off the tip, then pressed the end against Chloe's crotch.

The response was immediate. Chloe howled in pain, grasping at the cigarette as Catherine ground it out against the tiny woman's flesh. Georgia shrieked, crying out Chloe's name, but Catherine's free hand came down and pinned the redhead to the table, rendering her helpless but to watch as her girlfriend was mercilessly tortured by their Mistress. Chloe screamed every plea she could think of, writhing and twisting uselessly to escape the heat.

When the cigarette had gone out, Catherine casually dropped it into the ashtray. She gathered Chloe up in her hand, then released Georgia from her containment. “Stay on your knees, mick. Her well-being isn't your concern, correct?”

Georgia bit her bottom lip, staring up at Catherine through bitter tears. She shook in impotent rage, her fists clenched tight at her sides. “Yes, ma'am.” She said through clenched teeth. Catherine just clucked her tongue.

“Don't look at me. Look at the ground, and thank me for torturing this useless trash instead of you.”

The Irish girl reluctantly dropped her gaze to the ground, still seething. “Thank you ma'am.” She said stiffly.

“You seem somewhat more invested in this girl's welfare than you first let on, little Georgia.” Catherine's voice dripped with malicious intent. “Could it be that you were lying to me before? Do you actually know who she is, and care for her?”

“No ma'am, of course not.” She said, practically hissing the words. She was torn up inside over what Catherine was making her say.

“Marvelous. I was thinking about drowning her. What do you think?”

Georgia felt like she had ice running through her veins. “D-doesn't that seem... wasteful, ma'am?”

“Oh please.” Catherine snorted. “You slaves are a dime a... a dime a hundred.” Pinching Chloe by the wrist, she swiftly flicked her hand towards the table, sending the tiny woman flying through the air and landing with a hard smack against the glass surface. Georgia let out a scream, covering her mouth with her hands. When Chloe landed, Georgia immediately leaped up and rushed to her side, kneeling over her. Catherine watched with a mixture of excitement and disgust.

“Why would you do that!?” Georgia shrieked, looking up at Catherine with unbridled hatred. “Keep your hands off of her, you sour rotten cunt!” Catherine raised an eyebrow and reached out for the prone woman once more, but Georgia jumped to her feet, standing in the way of her hand. “No! Keep away!” She stomped her foot as she spoke.

“Step aside, little slave, and I'll only be kind of motivated to make the rest of your life hell.”

Georgia's eyes narrowed, a gesture that her Mistress didn't notice. “You touch me and I'll tell him. I'll tell him everything you do. I'll tell him about all the little men you fuck, or let fuck you. I'll tell him all the shit you say about him. I'll tell him what you did to me – hell, I'll even make shit up, don't think I won't. You stay away from her!” Catherine was mildly taken aback. None of her slaves had ever stood up to her in such a manner before. She brushed Georgia aside with a sweep of her hand and gathered Chloe up, smiling down at the raging woman.

“Now now, settle down.” Catherine chided as Georgia began to shriek herself hoarse. “If you don't shut up right now I'll pulp her into little bits and make you bathe in them.” The redhead's voice caught in her throat, and Catherine nodded. “Good girl. Now I can forgive your little outburst, but you're going to have to prove that you're really sorry about what you said.”

“I'm not.” Georgia insisted, some of the righteous fury gone from her now that Chloe was in Catherine's hands. She was panting, and the rhythm from her breath made her chest heave enticingly. “I'm not sorry. You're horrid.”

“Well I'm sorry to hear you say that, but not as sorry as little Chloe here is going to be.” Catherine's grin sent chills down Georgia's spine. “Now I think... I think this girl's rather dirty. Wouldn't you agree?”

Georgia stayed silent, unsure of what to make of what was happening. “Y-yes.”

“Tsk tsk. One little outburst and you forget all your training. Say it again, correctly.”

“Yes ma'am.” She repeated, her face redder than usual.

“That's better. Isn't it nice to be a good girl?”

There was a pause before Georgia realized the question wasn't rhetorical. Her mind was fully devoted to paying attention to Chloe. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Now, we agree that Chloe is positively filthy. So what should we do about it?” The two women stared into each others' eyes for a long while, neither saying a word. Finally, Catherine continued. “Well, I suppose since I don't feel much like getting up, I'll just have to get rid of the dirt from here.” She rolled Chloe over in her hand, being sure to press her finger against the tiny woman's mutilated crotch, drawing whimpers from her. Catherine pressed her thumbnail against the top of Chloe's back and then, pressing hard, ran the nail down her flesh.

Chloe shrieked again as the nail dragged agonizingly slowly down her back. Georgia started screaming as well, angrily pleading with Catherine to let her girlfriend go. The Mistress of the house enjoyed listening to her subjects suffering, but even this wasn't truly satisfying her sadism. She had spent months being envious of the porcelain beauty on the table before her, and only now did she hold Georgia's weak spot in her hand. She needed to use this to crush the pathetic little redhead.

Catherine looked at her handiwork. A long red streak ran down Chloe's back, and she gently ran her fingertip along it, prolonging the French girl's suffering. “Please...” Chloe whimpered into the hand that gripped her. “Please please stop...”

“Stop what? Trying to make you clean? Are you saying you would rather live in filth?”

“P... p... p-please...” It was all Chloe could think to say. She was just a cleaning slave, she didn't usually have much interaction with the giants. As a result, she didn't understand how to talk to them, or what they wanted. Georgia, on the other hand, was more than aware of their proclivities. She ached to take Chloe's place, but she knew that Catherine would never dare leave a mark on her husband's prized possession.

“Mistress, please let her go.” Georgia said, surprising Catherine out of her torment of Chloe. The redhead sank to her knees and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Chloe is a dirty, uneducated slave girl, it's true. But I'm begging you to please, please take mercy on her. I...” Georgia wasn't sure if she should say the next part, but she was a desperate woman with no other options. “I know you want to hurt me, Mistress. I'm so sorry I cause you grief, I wish I didn't but I know that I do. Please take your frustration out on me. Make me clean everything – the whole house – for a year. Make me lick your toes, or the floor, o-or... or the inside of a grill, Mistress, please. Please let me do anything.” She looked into Catherine's eyes with more passion than she'd ever summoned before. “Please do your worst to me, Mistress. Please make me scum, and please just let Chloe go.”

Catherine would never admit it to anyone but herself, but seeing the beautiful redhead on her knees, begging to be subjugated, aroused her more than she had been in a long time. She took a slow, deep breath, calming herself. “So you do care about this little runt.” She finally said. Georgia just nodded.

“Yes, Mistress, I do.” Catherine had noticed the tiny girl's increase in respectful words, and she had to say she rather liked it.

“Well that's all you had to say!” Catherine said, following it with a short laugh. “Here I am thinking we both agree that this disgusting vermin is expendable. I didn't realize you actually cared about her!” Georgia made herself smile, trying to match the cheery atmosphere Catherine had created. Behind her mask, however, she was nothing but tumultuous fear.

“Now let me think... is there something you can do for me that will make up the fact that for the past two years my husband has touched me in bed – at all, anywhere on the body – five times? I'm just gonna mull that one over here for a second, I hope you don't mind.” Georgia could already feel her heart starting to sink lower than it had already been. She glanced at Chloe every half a second, silently screaming at Catherine to just put her down. The bigger woman tapped her lips with a finger, pretending to think, and stroked Chloe's back with her thumb as she did so. Every scream from her girlfriend sent a crushing pang of guilt through Georgia.

“Please, Mistress, it's not my fault!” Georgia insisted. Catherine laughed, but this time it was bitter.

“Oh please. Not your fault? Look at how you tart yourself up every day.”

“He makes me! Don't you know that? He makes me wash myself every day! He expects his 'darling little princess' to be perfect for him at all times.”

“What does my daughter have to do with anything?” Georgia frowned, deflating somewhat. The question caught her off-guard.

“What?” Neither of them noticed as she dropped the formality of her speech.

“You said he expects his darling little princess to be perfect. That's my daughter.”

Georgia shook her head. “No, no, I meant those words specifically. That's his... his pet name for me, I guess.”

“No, that's his pet name for my daughter.” Catherine's voice lowered, becoming more dangerous as the two women started to come to the same sickening conclusion.

“O-of course, Mistress. I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking straight.”

“Clearly you weren't, because it sounded like you were implying my husband uses the same nickname for his daughter and his toy slut.” Catherine leaned forward, her fingers curling harshly around Chloe. Georgia stepped back a few paces, putting her hands up defensively.

“No, Mistress, I wouldn't ever say that!” Catherine could feel bile rising up in her throat. She thought about how she let her life get to this point. She had always known her husband was not a man beyond reproach, but something like this... it was too much. She couldn't accept it.

“You filthy little cunt.” She hissed. “You filthy, lying little cunt!” She dropped Chloe to the ground, heedless of the shrill shriek followed by a soft crack. She scooped Georgia up in her hand, gripping the little woman so hard she thought she could feel bones bending beneath her fingers. She pressed her thumbnail against the redhead's throat, her eyes narrowed to slits. “How dare you say such a thing!”

Georgia's mouth opened and closed pathetically as the helpless woman tried to draw breath. She was completely immobilized, and was truly afraid she'd already spoken her last words. She tried to plead with her eyes, but she was starting to lose control of what parts of her she could still move freely. Catherine watched her hatefully as the life slowly began to fade from the tiny Irish girl.

A deep, gasping breath brought Georgia back to animation, but she was only allowed the one before Catherine clamped her hand around Georgia again, restricting her air. The tiny woman realized what was happening. She was being tortured in such a way that wouldn't leave a mark. She still struggled and fought instinctively against Catherine's hand, but it was no use. She was too weak, and after another excruciatingly long minute passed, her vision started to fade again, her lungs burning from lack of oxygen.

Another gasp, deeper than the first, but truncated before she could finish it. Catherine seemed to know what she was doing, much to Georgia's dismay. She was inflicting an incredible amount of pain with such a simple act. Georgia's squirms were slowly fading, for even with the new wave of energy from her most recent breath, she was still severely weakened. She wondered if Catherine was actually going to go through with it, or if she would be able to see past her anger and let Georgia go.

“Pathetic.” Catherine finally spat, letting Georgia drop to the ground. The tiny redhead landed on her back and immediately began gasping for air, rolling onto her side. When she'd gotten enough oxygen back into her system that she didn't have to concentrate on breathing, she looked out in front of her. Chloe laid sprawled out on the ground, one of her legs twisted behind her, with bone jutting out through her leg.

“No!” Georgia croaked, starting to crawl forward, but Catherine gently rested her foot on top of the little lady.

“Why don't you just stay right there? I want to have a little fun with your girlfriend here, and I don't want you getting in the way with another one of your obnoxious rants.”

“Please, no!” Georgia cried, though she knew it was hopeless. She looked at Chloe's unconscious form, grateful at least that she wouldn't be aware of what she was about to go through. Catherine's toe hovered over the unconscious girl's broken leg.

“Well, she won't be needing this anymore.” Catherine brought her big toe down on Chloe's lower leg, smashing it into the ground. It made a wet crunch as it broke, and Georgia choked out a sob, turning her head away. The bigger woman tilted her foot up, smiling down at the gore that slowly ran down the pad of her toe. Then she brought it over to her other foot, and without warning began to rub her toe into Georgia's face.

“I know that the two of you want to be close.” Catherine smirked ruefully as she tortured the little woman underneath her. “What could be closer? Now you two are blood-sisters.” Georgia was mortified. She didn't dare yell out loud because she didn't want to open her mouth to the taste of it. Her eyes were screwed shut and she let out a strained, muted noise of horror.

“What's wrong, you little whore?” Catherine was rolling Georgia's head around beneath her toe now, the power and hatred and gin all mixing within her to create a dangerous lack of concern for the tiny woman's well-being. “I'm taking the essence of her heart and I'm giving it to you. You should be grateful. Not many lovers experience so much of their partners so soon.” She chuckled darkly, taking another sip of her drink. She settled her toe down on the side of Georgia's head, pressing the redhead's face against the ground. She didn't exert much pressure, but her decreasing lack of motor control meant the amount she did exert fluctuated terrifyingly for Georgia.

“I should crush your head right now.” She said, feeling the bile in her throat again. “You miserable, wretched, disgusting cunt whore.” Tears were actually forming in Catherine's eyes, though Georgia was completely unaware of it. “This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This is all your fault. You come in here with... with that goddamn hair, and those goddamn tits, and your goddamn youth!” She was rapidly losing control of her voice. Georgia had never in her life been more afraid. She didn't think she could have made a sound even if she wanted to. She was sure that if she did, then the weight of Catherine's hatred for her alone would crush her into a small stain. “You make me sick. You make him think those thoughts, you know. He... he wouldn't be like that on his own. It's your fault.”

“Mommy?” The voice startled both Georgia and Catherine, the latter of whom looked up to meet her daughter's gaze. She hadn't heard the footsteps come down the hall. She put on a smile, wiping at the corners of her eyes.

“Yes, honey?” She said, trying to affect a pleasant disposition.

“Can I... have my toys back?”

Catherine laughed, releasing Georgia from her nearly-fatal foothold. “Of course, I'm sorry I kept them for so long.” She shoved Georgia forward with her foot, and Maribelle walked forward, collecting the tiny redhead in one hand. She and her mother looked down at the injured Chloe, who had awoken moments ago and begun clumsily crawling away. A small trail of blood led from behind her to her wounded leg.

“Did she fall?” Maribelle asked. She wasn't unaccustomed to seeing terrible wounds on the tiny houseslaves, and it didn't phase her at all.

“Yes, she did. But I have something important to tell you.” Catherine put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. “Are you paying attention to me?”

“Yes mom.” She nodded.

“First I want you to get little Georgia here cleaned up. She had quite the fall herself and she's gotten herself all dirty. That just won't do.”

“Okay.”

“Then I want you to keep an eye on her. She's no longer to be kissing other girls. If you even think that there's another girl that she wants to kiss, I want you to just stomp her out, okay?”

Maribelle giggled. “Stomp her out!” She made a stomping motion with her foot, and Catherine nodded.

“Why don't you show me on this one?” The three women looked down at Chloe, who returned the gaze with fear in her eyes.

“No!” Georgia screamed. “No, Maribelle no! Don't do it!” Catherine felt hatred well up in her just from that sickening accent, but her daughter paid the tiny girl no mind.

“Stomp her out!” Maribelle was excited to be making her mother happy. She raised her shoe over Chloe, and before the tiny woman had a chance to put her arms up in a useless attempt at defense, the foot came down on her, violently exploding her body across the ground. Smiling, she looked at her mother, who returned the look with an equal smile.

Georgia was mortified. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the streaks of red across the tiled floor, or the sticky viscera in the center. She started to let out a low keen, her eyes welling up with tears, but it was quickly muted by Maribelle, who shifted the tiny woman in her fist such that her upper body and face were covered by the soft flesh of her palm. Georgia struggled as hard as she could, driven mad with panic and grief but the hold was inescapable.

“Very good dear. That was...” Catherine took a sharp breath, glancing down at the redness that used to contain a life. “That was very good. Go take that one to get cleaned up and then get yourself washed up for lunch.”

“Okay!” Maribelle nodded and whirled again, starting to race down the hall.

“Oh – and Maribelle?” Catherine called after the young girl, who stopped and looked back.

“Yeah?”

“Your father...” Catherine's mind raced for the right words. “He... loves you. We both do.”

“I know!” Maribelle said, nodding happily.

“I know you do, but... he likes to be alone. S-so don't be in a room alone with your father, even if he asks you to be, okay?”

“I... I don't understand?” Maribelle said, frowning.

“Just-” Catherine felt her voice rise, and she cut herself off, taking a breath. “Just don't, okay? Can you promise mommy you won't do that?” Slowly, Maribelle nodded. “Great. Now, go get the two of you washed up. And remember, for that one,” She pointed at Georgia. “Stomp them out.”