The next week passed in much the same manner, with Sam bitterly resisting his owner's 'offers' and attempting some semblance of self-sufficiency. On those days when Lyria went out to work he would crawl from the heels he'd been granted and try to brave the steps. The journey across the plush white carpet of the living room was a trek but the true challenge lay with the steps. Not one of his attempts had been successful. The surface of the steps was far too smooth much like the sink and he couldn't find purchase. If there was something he could climb up it might be possible to conquer one of the steps, sadly he lacked anything that tall. Pushing Lyria's discarded footwear was laughable; it would be like pushing a house.

As his body recovered his resolve followed but over the days it was slowly but surely being picked away. Lyria only granted him a single meal each day, typically ham, bread, occasionally both with water. What she was doing to him was effortless for her, it didn't inconvenience her at all to leave him be and ignore him. For him it was a much different story. The contact between them was kept short and Sam could feel himself slowly living for just those tiny snippets of conversation. The combination of the partial starvation and isolation was wearing away at his desire to deny the elf.

Little insidious thoughts worked their way into his skull on those days when he found himself lying in the high heel with nothing to do. It wouldn't be so bad to just let Lyria bathe him or go with her on her morning runs, would it? Just a few little concessions for a better overall quality of living. She wouldn't be winning anything and he could escape the monotony of this dull and fruitless existence. It would make everything so much easier if he just gave into the elf on these seemingly tiny things.

Only she would be winning. Sam knew she was testing his resolve and trying to wear him down. It killed him to admit to himself that it was working. Just as it had killed him to admit to her that without her he couldn't do much of anything. How had it come to this, he wondered as he woke on the next Saturday morning. He had entered this contest of wills so confident he could weather anything Lyria could toss at him but now his surety was being rattled. Now he just was so tired and hungry and desperate for extended interaction that he was seriously considering giving into Lyria if only on these little things.

Her slapping footfalls on the tiled floor beyond the living room proper sent his heart racing, his eyes seeking out her distant form. She descended those two massive barriers that kept him in the room with two dainty little steps, waltzing over to him. Even recent from her slumber the elf was a goddess of flawless beauty, the half lidded eyes and bedraggled hair minor detractors at best. Most elves transcended human beauty which was often why they were so hated, ageless, graceful, and perfectly suited for high level corporate positions. Of course many would envy them, the most fortunate of the Metahumans.

Sam felt himself plucked from his place in the high heel and accompanied Lyria on the journey to the bathroom. The routine was the same as before, the same as it had been all week when she set him down on the edge of the sink and let the faucet start running. The elf then departed the bathroom for a moment only to return with her towel and washcloths, setting the down on the toilet with a slight sigh. Her blue eyes then settled on his form, a tiny smirk upon her lips as she spoke.

"Have you decided to finally let your owner bathe you, Sammy?" She inquired.

Sam paused for thought at that. His mind was torn between continued resistance and just giving her what she wanted. It was just a fucking bath after all and it was keeping him from lunch and dinner and giving him a freezing morning. On the one day he had opted to not even go into the bath Lyria's hand had 'accidently' sent him tumbling into the sink. She played it off as an honest mistake later of course but Sam got the message. Stuck between his two states of mind he glared up at the elf for a moment before hanging his head.

"Yes." He said, sure he would choke on the words.

Lyria's eyes lit up and she smiled victoriously. Somehow this was worse than her just losing her temper and forcing the indignity on him. At least with that he would have forced her hand. He would have won some petty victory in this game of power. Sam swallowed hard as he glared daggers at the elf for forcing this out of him. It was his only comfort that giving on these little things did not necessarily mean she'd broken him. He was still no pet and he wasn't going to start being one.

"I'm so glad you've finally let me take care of my cute little pet. My heart has simply been aching with regret at not being able to treat you properly." She said, her voice dripping with sickly false sweetness.

"Up yours, dandelion eater." Sam growled.

Lyria's eyes flashed at that and the icy look she gave him was enough to give Sam cause to take an involuntary step back. "Careful, pet. My patience is limitless but my goodwill is not. Keep up the lip and I might just have to actually punish you."

The edge to her voice was unmistakable as she turned the faucet off and mixed in some soap with the water. Sam had no idea what kind of 'punishment' she subscribed to but the fact that she didn't consider the isolation and starvation punishments was cause enough to give him pause. Then a tiny smirk adorned his face. He'd been looking for a good method for rebelling against the elf when the answer had been just under his nose. Fear had kept him from being too disrespectful but now he figured there was very little to fear when he had nothing to lose.

"I've tangled with street rats more scary than you, chummer. You're all talk, elf, and no action. You like to act dangerous when really you're a slave to the mega-corps with no real freedom." He said, mouthing away at the woman.

Her brow lowered more and more until she was giving him a look that could most certainly kill. Sam smirked and narrowed his eyes as he didn't blanch or flinch away from the staring contest. With blinding speed her hand slammed down next to him, her implacable and unshakeable outer shell starting to break at the disrespect lain at her feet. That was something Sam did flinch from; swallowing hard at how the close the blow had come to pasting him. Looking back up he found her expression change suddenly to a wintery smile.

"Ah, I see. You want me to punish you is that it? Taking back some measure of petty control for yourself? Well then I'll give you exactly what you want and we'll see at the end whether or not you think it's in your best interests to piss me off." Lyria said, snatching up Sam with blinding speed and closing her fist around him.

All at once Sam felt the air crushed from his lungs as the soft walls of flesh pressed up against him. He could feel that they were moving somewhere but at the moment all that really mattered was that he couldn't breathe. It was just like when he'd been nearly crushed by that tube of lipstick. The elf was pissed and he could feel deep in his gut that he'd made a rather big error in judgment trying to goad a reaction out of her like that. Finally the pressure let up as she shifted her grip so he was between her thumb and forefinger.

"Let's see how mouthy you are after this." Lyria said, releasing her hold suddenly.

Sam screamed as he felt himself falling, slipping between something and ending up splashing into water. He surfaced a moment later, looking around to get his bearings. A transparent prison of plastic was all around him and the water was rather deep and certainly cold. He looked up just in time to see Lyria fasten a cap onto the bottle of water before sauntering off back to her shower. Sam searched about frantically for a way out of the plastic prison, kicking and pounding against the walls. He stopped when it became clear that he was doing nothing more than making ripples in the water.

He was forced to wait in anticipation as the elf finished with her morning routine, staring out at her through the plastic. The cold was getting to him much faster, sending out little puffs of air with each of his breaths. It occurred to him that air was limited for him but he couldn't stop from breathing heavily and from chattering his teeth. Lyria ate her breakfast and switched into her usual running clothes before returning to him with a cruel smile on her lips. Sam swallowed as he waited for her to address him, fear lancing through his heart.

"Hope you are nice and cozy in there, pet, because we're going for a run." She said, snatching up the water bottle and promptly making her way out the door.

The movements of her hand as she walked sent the water shifting around the bottle and repositioned the air of the container. Sam held his breath and had to follow the air bubbles, rising up and taking long gulps of air. They weren't on Lyria's normal run and already he was feeling the punishment as he frantically swam about searching for the air bubbles. The elf didn't have a care in the world as she left her apartment building but her pet was struggling just to keep himself from drowning in a water bottle.

When Lyria actually started jogging things went from horrid to absolute torture. The water sloshed about with abandon and brought Sam along for the ride as she moved her arm in regular and long motions. He slammed into the sides more than once and was forced to grab mouthfuls of gasping air when he could. He tried to fight the current but it was no use as he ended up just getting taken along for the ride. The ride along run was probably already shaping up to be the worst experience he'd had since shrinking and they were just starting out on her route.

Eventually and mercifully Lyria stopped for a moment, allowing Sam to swim to a pocket of air at the top near the cap and gasp for air. His lungs were overjoyed at the temporary relief however a new problem, one much bigger and more frightening presented itself. Gravity in the bottle shifted once more, leaving Sam swimming in the water and trying to follow the air. It was only when he looked down that he was reminded of where exactly he was and why the elf had brought him along.

Lyria's plush lips met the opening of the water bottle, her throat opening to guzzle down the liquid in long greedy gulps. Sam stared for a moment down at the dark pit below, water starting to rush past him and vanishing forever past her agile tongue and into the gullet of the elf. His legs and arms moved with renewed purpose, frantically trying to escape the current being drawn into Lyria. Breathing was secondary at this point to being devoured by the vindictive elf. His heartbeat sounded in his skull like a wardrum as he was drawn closer and closer to Lyria's awaiting mouth. Her throat seemed to open even wider and Sam knew he was certainly small enough to slip past her lips and down her elegant, slender throat with a single gulp.

Suddenly it seemed as though Lyria had her fill of the drink and tore it away from her lips with a satisfied sigh. Sam was thrown back into a section with air as the cap was reapplied and gravity reoriented itself. He drank in the air that now half-filled the bottle of water, grateful for the momentary peace as Lyria stood in place. He had no idea where they were on this route of hers but he prayed to whatever God was up in the sky that it was near the end. He wasn't sure how much his burning arms and lungs could keep this up.

No such luck as the elf started on her route once more, sending the water frothing about inside the water bottle. This time was still awful but drowning was not too big of a concern as the water bottle was half empty at this point. He actually thought he was starting to get a feel for the movement of the water, gauging the motions it made to try and minimize being slammed into the walls of his prison. All the while he dreaded the return of those lips on the bottle's opening and the grizzly fate that awaited beyond them.

They stopped again and this time when the bottle straightened upright and the cap was slowly unscrewed Sam gathered his reserves of strength and swam to the bottom of the bottle. When the bottle tipped up and the water was drawn into Lyria's waiting mouth once more he was the furthest away from her lips. He swam as frantically as before as the elf drank more and more of the water, trying to avoiding being pulled down. The water level continued to lower until it was about a fourth full. Then she capped it once more and went on her merry way.

The rest of the route continued without another visit from the lips, simply a run back through what looked like familiar terrain. It was hard to judge but Sam thought the outside looked familiar. Perhaps he was simply getting delirious from the sheer exhaustion he was feeling right about now. He felt battered and bruised and his lungs were hurting each time he took a single breath. Finally Lyria's pace gained a more walking quality to it and he very much recognized the building where his owner made her home.

As she opened the door he figured he was in the clear, only for Lyria to prove him very wrong. The bottle was uncapped and tipped over her lips once more, drawing in more water. Sam swam as best he could, clawing at the sides of the bottle as the water drained from the bottle entirely. It was no good; he was slipping down the plastic and towards the entrance and couldn't stop himself. He screamed as he grasped at the inside of the entrance of the bottle for purchase, his legs slipping past Lyria's lips.

He could feel the heat of her breath upon him and hear the sound of how heavy it was, fogging the outside of the bottle. His fingers slipped from the purchase and he fell right past the elf's waiting lips. As soon as he was in the moist cavern the lips closed shut and left him in complete and utter darkness.

Hell. That was what Sam would describe Lyria's mouth as. His fingers slipped over the moist tongue he found himself upon, the surface sticky and rough all at once. He breathed in her breath and the breaths she took; he could even hear the distant drumbeat of her heart. His only purchase was the fleshy member beneath him that pressed him up against the roof of her mouth. Sam screamed and earned a mouthful of her saliva for his trouble. The sticky substance tingled as his skin in this dark, moist, fleshy, hell which only added to his fear.

Lyria's tongue threw him about her mouth, coating him in a thick layer of saliva. It was in his hair, it was all over him, he could even swear some of it was up his nose. It was warm in her mouth and that was the only redeeming factor considering how cold the water had been. His eyes stung as his face was pressed into the tongue below him when he was pressed against one of her cheeks. Was she tasting him? Appraising his flavor or something? Her tongue flicked against his member teasingly, the thing fearfully at attention as adrenaline coursed to every inch of his body.

Slowly he felt himself drawn to the back of her mouth and towards the pit of no return he knew lay there. In hindsight he knew it had been stupid to push Lyira. This was the woman who's idea of a good first date was to hold a gun to his head while they had sex. He had been desperate to hold onto some semblance of dignity. Where was the dignity in this? Was this any way for him to die? Eaten alive for stupidly pissing off Lyria? Just some lining on her stomach, a snack before lunch?

Suddenly gravity shifted and he felt himself falling forward, his eyes squinting open as blinding light met him. He fell down and landed on the familiar soft surface of her hand, coughing and sputtering. He's been choking on her saliva, the substance threatening to enter his lungs and now his body struggled to eject it. He wiped his eyes, trying to remove the stinging fluid as he just struggled to reorient himself. His eyesight was blurry and it hurt just to keep his eyes open as the saliva stung at his eyes.

"I wonder, do you feel validation in your defiance? Are you pleased with your decision to force me to punish you? I don't particularly care if you keep forcing my hand like that every day. As I said, I possess endless patience. At the end of the day it's your choice." Lyria said, her voice like ice.

Sam shivered as he looked up at her. He'd miscalculated in a major way when he'd opted to try and goad a reaction from his erstwhile owner. After the starvation and isolation he'd thought he could handle anything Lyria could conjure up. Submitting to her, to anyone, was anathema to him. She'd never once raised her hand to him in violence or forced anything upon him, even here she did it only due to his insults. Of course she wasn't going to let him just mouth off at her and call her what he wanted. She twisted it and placed the control over the matter squarely on him. She was right of course; he'd never have been put through that if he hadn't tried his luck.

The tiny human was wracked by another coughing fit and hated how very right the elf was in her words. Even now there was only apathy in Lyria's actions, ice where others might show fire and rage. Only for a brief instant had he witnessed her fire, when the shell cracked momentarily. After this however he found himself legitimately fearing just what laid beneath the mask of ice she crafted about herself. How bright did her rage burn? How terrible could she be when she was actually enraged? Part of him still wanted to know, that stupid adrenaline high seeking part. The vast majority never wanted to piss her off again.

"Now, would you like help drying off?" Lyria asked.

He glared up at the elf and managed to defiantly shake his head, coughing violently once last time. The elf shrugged and set him down on the kitchen counter with a set of napkins in the distance. The human gritted his teeth and tried clawing his way towards the objects. He slipped several times as his form was still very slick, ending up falling over himself. Lyria merely bounded off, the lingering scent of her sweat wafting through the air ever so. He wanted to hate her but found the feeling a hollow one.

The going was torturous across the kitchen counter towards the place where the napkins were stored. He felt so damn sticky and the lingering saliva stung when it entered his eyes from his hair. In his mind's eye he could still remember with crystal clarity the hell of the elf's mouth, it was a memory he suspected would remain for a long time to come. The wet squelch of her tongue as it moved, the slow drip of saliva within her mouth, the terror as he felt himself being drawn back towards her waiting throat...

He shook his head to try and dispel the thoughts, arriving at the napkin holder she had set up. His fingers gripped at the middle most one and he tugged with all his might. His burning muscles screamed in protest as he slowly loosened the napkin from his snug place. He strained to pull it out, nearly slipping over himself several times. Success was eventually his and he removed the large piece of fabric and quickly wrapped it around himself. His heart swelled slightly at being able to do something for himself at least.

His eyes and hair were the first thing he focused on, drying both as best he could. Some of the saliva was dry by now and was sticking in his hair; it couldn't be helped for now. Sam focused on the spots that were still wet and blinked his eyes open fully. There was still some light stinging but at least he could see now so that was good. He scoured himself as best he could, unable to find a place where saliva had not gotten. Lyria's tongue had been quite thorough in its ministrations.

After a time he was somewhat satisfied, laying back on the napkin and staring up at the bottom of the cupboard above. Laying on the object an idea suddenly struck him and he stood slowly, looking for a relatively untouched part of it. Once he found a sizable dry patch he gripped the edges and started tearing at it. It was slow going and he couldn't tear at all the layers, it was far too thick for that. He had to tear at individual layers until he finally had what he needed. Once he finished Lyria returned and collected him with a look of slight amusement on her face when she saw what he was holding.

She said nothing about it as she deposited him back in her high heel before leaving him to his own devices for the rest of the day. For his part Sam was content to lie down beneath his makeshift blanket. So far today had been his worst since his team was killed but at the very least he had taken something away from it. He clutched the fabric with strong fingers. It was his proof that despite everything he did not need Lyria for everything. He could still remind himself that he was human.