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Is it cruel? She doesn’t know any better, after all.
Samas doesn’t care, of course. Fair is for people with options.
She has this, or nothing.
“I’m home,” she says, stepping into her room. The glow is dimmer, and the woman on her couch jumps up, grinning.
“Samas-Sama!”
Samas had managed a downright miracle. Finding the fruit of her remains, growing it up to human form. Miiru doesn’t remember much, but she has the same face, and the same power.
And utter loyalty to Samas herself.
Samas smiles. She kisses Miiru softly. She values her assets, and none are worth as much as her secret goddess.
Miiru moans.
“Samas-Sama… I missed you…”
“We’re in a new era,” Samas says. “There’s a lot of work.”
Miiru frowns.
“You work too hard,” she says. “When you’re in charge, I hope you work less.”
When I’m in charge, you’ll be gone.
“It’s not my fault,” Samas says. “Niram is… meticulous.”
Meticulous in a way his predecessor just wasn’t, and that Samas finds to be frankly unnecessary.
“Then I hate him even more,” Miiru says. “He should worship you the way I do.”
Miiru hugs Samas tightly but with no force. Samas grins.
“Why don’t you help relieve my stress, then?”
Miiru knows this: there was pain, and then there was Samas. She is Samas’ goddess. Her pet, her asset. Her job is to hide and wait for Samas to need her, and then she’ll be turned into a true goddess.
In the meantime, her job is to take care of Samas. If she doesn’t, and Samas comes in too angry to see sense, Samas lashes out. She apologizes after, and never hits so hard that Miiru minds.
It hurts less than the Before she can hardly remember. Samas promises to make sure she won’t have to suffer like that. Not now that Miiru is hers.
She knows that when she is between her master’s legs, she doesn’t have to worry about any of it.
She wants to give everything to Samas. Because it’s all she knows. Because it’s safety.
Samas moans, her grip tight in Miiru’s hair.
“Ah…” she says. “There we go… of course… of course you’re a fast learner.”
Miiru moans and keeps going. Samas doesn’t care for her words. Not often.
(Perhaps not ever.)
She keeps going until Samas releases on her tongue.
Sometimes she dreams. Miiru, that is.
Samas dreams of power, Miiru knows this. Samas despises her silly boss’ obsession with realism.
“There’s no place for that,” Samas says often. “In a goddamn reality television series . I’d say he’s broken, but he still does his job, so what do I even know?”
Miiru always nods along. She doesn’t agree, she thinks, but she’s Samas’ tool, so what does she know?
Miiru dreams of pain. Red blood and teeth in skin and someone screaming her name. Shadowy figures in masks that warp her into new forms. Doesn’t Samas do the very same thing?
She dreams of warm food and bright colors and the scents of nature, or of humanity, that only sometimes has a hint of iron blood.
She doesn’t remember her dreams well.
She dreams only one face that makes her feel safe. It is not her Master’s.
An innocent smile. A tan suit with tiny red hearts.
On those days some tiny bit of hope and fondness keeps her going when she’s lonely.
One day, the nightmares return, and she does something she shouldn’t, and she leaves the room, and she runs.
Smack dab into…
“Miiru?”
“Niram?” Miiru asks. It connects in her mind, suddenly. That smiling figure in her dreams, and the Niram who is her Master’s boss. They’re the same?
She falls to her knees, shaking in fear.
“Miiru!” Niram exclaims. “Are you alright? How are you here?”
Miiru had taught herself to never cry in front of her superiors. She knows it now, even through the haze.
“I don’t know,” She says. “I… I missed you.”
His eyes aren’t young anymore, as he kneels in front of her.
“I missed you too,” he says.
Now, she cries.