Leashed

There are two things that the spoiled and sadistic little Neoma Belmonte never expected to happen to herself. First: Never would she have thought that she'd be grateful in her life, especially to someone who lacked self-respect and who, in a very troubling sense, doubted his very own existence. He appeared to her as the last one who’d concern himself over her; the last person who’d save her from the kids who bullied her. He is—in every perspective—wrecked, and he was the least likely to comprehend what the word “Concern” even meant. She wonders how he came to her rescue, considering how vile she had treated him. It might have been instinct that drove him, for pity could have been impossible. It surprised her a lot that humans are capable of helping others in spite of the selfish nature they are born with. She is a concrete example; nonetheless, she is just plain selfish. Seeing her in a pathetic state could have amused him, and it was a more acceptable circumstance, yet it all turned out otherwise. It is true that she disliked him to the point that she wanted to strangle him to death. That was because he was a total enigma that her childish brain refused to understand how psychologically distorted he was. “Why did you save me?” Little Neoma asked. The two kids are in the girl’s school backyard. She furiously glared at the boy who’s three years older than her and whose tacky T-shirt was covered in mud which resulted from his brawl with her bullies earlier. He looked at her without a hint of care in his face. His stolidness made her grit her teeth. “Weirdo! Answer me!” She yelled, which had not, however, still gotten her a response from the boy she tormented every day. Twilight hovered over them and it glistened not a calming but an unkempt emotion within her, for he kept an impassive look, and his eyes looked more lifeless than usual. He truly is, to her, incomprehensible. She could never understand him. Little Neoma could never succumb to the idea of patience, for she had never been used to waiting as far as her ten years of living covered. Sol, her unexpected savior, envisioned her next reaction because, in the previous days that he had been with her, he discovered that she was not only at the mercy of sadism but also of impulsivity. . Pak! She stormed at him and slapped him square in the face. He remained unfazed. She slapped him again, and this time, with more force. He, still, did not dodge, did not retort and did not fulfill her anticipation of a pained expression from him. She grabbed him by the neckline of his dirty shirt and yelled at his face, “What is wrong with you?!” What she saw after jumbled the wits out of her. Sol smirked at her, and this is the kind that cornered her reasoning. “Why did you stop hitting me?” He amusedly said to her. This made Neoma decide to step away from him, but before she could do that, Sol had already caught both of her hands. What was more alarming to her was how the boy seemed so fascinated by smelling them and caressing them on his cheeks. The act creeped her on. She couldn’t respond to how things had switched from intense to unpredictable. “You have beautiful hands,” he said with a tone like he was greatly enjoying himself. Immensely taken aback by his demeanor, she withdrew from him and gave him another slap to bring him to his senses, but how he reacted startled her more. He appeared delighted at being hurt. “Aaahh, I love how you hit me,” he said, then smiled at her. She couldn’t believe it. This boy is insane. She thought. It appealed to her that he wanted to be hurt more. “Please hit me again and again for as long as you like,” he pleaded, which drove her to the conclusion that he was utterly imbalanced mentally. Not getting what she wanted to extract from him—the reason why he saved her from the bullies—she made up her mind to leave him alone. This is also due to the idea that he may confront her about her debt to him. It had to be a miscalculation. It certainly had to be because she had not, even once, entertained the idea of him wrapping his arms around her. This is the second thing that she never expected to happen in her entire intriguing and sadistically-driven life. “What are you doing?!” She rebelled against his embrace from behind. “Please hit me again,” he implored, which, of course, scared the senses out of her. “What?! Let me go!” “Please hit me again. I want your hands to touch my face.” This has totally gotten out of little Neoma’s mental grasp. Why is he acting this way? He could not be weirder, and it looked like he would not let go of her either. When she tried to get loose, his embrace grew tighter. He still murmured how he pleaded for her to hurt him again. Finally, when it became clear to her that she wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation with ease, she decided to convince him. “Alright,” she said, “I’m going to slap you relentlessly until you beg for me to stop.” “That’s great!” He exclaimed and positioned his face upfront to her when she turned to him. What happened then, on the contrary, showed that she did not keep her end of their bargain. She shoved him, which made him fall on his back to the muddy ground, and she ran away from him that instant. Later in the evening, Sol is taken to the basement of the elegant but hostile Belmonte Mansion. Due to his inappropriate actions towards the Belmonte heiress earlier (which was reported by none other than Neoma herself), he is to be beaten until he apologizes for his misconduct. Little Neoma, who feels the need for a formal apology from him and who cozily sits in a red baroque chair, was the major spectator for this punishment. As wicked as she could get, she never lets a fault pass. Much to the demise of her bullies earlier in the afternoon, their families’ houses were probably, at the same time, rammed with bullets. “Whip him as hard as you can,” Gello, the right-hand man of her father, told his subordinate who'd inflict the punishment on the poor boy, to which the latter responded with a nod. Hearing what little boys did to his young mistress made him feel that his own daughter was being aggravated by lowlifes. Sure, he has heard about how her sadistic acts got her karma, but he can’t turn a blind eye on this. This is his boss’ only beloved child, and whatever she wants to happen must happen, even when there are people who need to be victims of her fetishes or habits. He also understands that because of the absence of maternal guidance and because of how unusual her upbringing is, growing up in an environment where she sees violence as justifiable, she became how she is right now. Gello looked at Sol, whose hands were chained in different directions. He was the boy whom he and his boss brought from a business trip in a nearby city once. They found him being beaten in the street by a bunch of kids about his age. His boss decided to take the boy with them after the other kids were fed up with beating him. He can’t tell why his boss came to such a decision then. The boy who said that his name is "Sol" looked so pale and weak that a gush of wind might just simply blow him away. He realized, from the narration of the young mistress, that the thirteen-year-old boy is a masochist. He takes pleasure in being abused. Now, it became clear to him that the reason why his boss had brought him home was that he would be a fitting match for his sadistic daughter. “Begin!” He commanded. What he saw later made him question his realization because little Sol cried out in pain and wasn’t clearly taking pleasure in being whipped. “Stop! No, please don’t hit me! Have mercy on me!” He cried. Little Neoma, nevertheless, appeared very amused by his cries. She gave old Gello a look which meant that she wanted the punishment to continue, not taking heed of Sol’s pleas. Gello, for the purpose of making his young mistress happy, decided not to bring a halt to the punishment. It was not until the boy cried out something that shocked every one in the basement. “I only want Neoma to hurt me! I want her to be the only one to give me pain! The Belmonte henchmen directed their eyes at their young mistress to see for themselves how she would react, but she gave them a straight face. This appeared to Gello as a signal of continuation, which made Sol cry out more in pain. “Stop this!” The single little shrill voice froze them all. She stood from her chair and walked to where Sol was. Once she got there, she snatched the whip from the henchman who had been hitting the boy earlier and proceeded to whip him herself. “Aaaah!” He moaned, which irked her more than she already was. Her whips to him weren’t to satisfy his fantasies but the result of her agitation towards him. She didn’t like hearing it. She didn’t like how he wanted to be hurt more by her. This made her mad. She wanted him to fear her, but it became apparent that he’d never be like that towards her, for even with the hideous crimson marks obtained from the whip on his back, he seemed to be enjoying it, and he even wanted more. Eventually, she became tired of it; at the same time, she became frustrated. Her frustration gave her tears. The henchmen became disconcerted. “What’s wrong, Neoma?” Gello asked out of concern. She returned him a glare and shouted, “Get out! All of you, leave!” The men obliged, which left the flustered girl and the delirious boy alone in the basement. She looked at him in a bewildered but mad fashion, which he returned with a smirk. His expression made her wrap her hands around his neck. She couldn’t contain her anger at this boy, but he still seemed thrilled. “What is with you?! Why don’t you fear me?!” She yelled at him, perturbed. Feeling that she was only making a fool of herself, she decided to let him go. Sol coughed from the assault but wasn’t the least pained and when he had collected himself, he saw her seemingly endless tears. “Why are you crying? You shouldn’t be. Now, I can’t be happy when you’re not amused while hurting me,” Sol managed to tell her. She looked at him and wiped her tears with her hands. “Why are you so different? Don’t you fear me? Don’t you feel pain at all? I’ve been tormenting you all this time, but why are you acting this way now? It frustrates me that I don’t have any effect on you at all. You, a lowlife, of all people, do not even see me as a threat,” she stated while struggling to block her tears. He looked at her and, unknown to her at that minute, was how he saw her so endearing to him. He wants no one beside him but her. It all started when he was brought to this house several months ago. Initially, no one gave a second look at him. He felt that he didn’t matter in this world at all. The bodyguards of the man who brought him regarded him as no more than a nuisance. He wanted people to acknowledge that he mattered and that he was breathing. He never wants to be treated nonexistent. He didn't want to go back to how he felt with his relatives. They clearly didn’t give a damn about him. They would feed him and give him chores, but they wouldn’t even bother talking to him. They had their own lives, while he was stuck contemplating how he could be someone worth spending time with. It was then that he saw something that changed him downright. One day, he saw a dog that was being beaten by his cousins. No, it did not appear to him as animal cruelty, but it meant for him as a way to be noticed by other people. He became twisted at the thought of jealousy towards the poor dog. How lucky it was that my cousins noticed it. He thought. That day marked the start of his masochistic persona. He then devised ways where his relatives’ attention is pointed at him. He proceeded to act naughty. He broke valuable possessions of his relatives, such as vases, figurines and photo frames, and sometimes would pick fights with his neighbors his age. That would, of course, lead him to being punished, but he usually welcomed it with pleasure. That became a cycle, much to Sol’s amusement. He felt alive; he felt that they cared. What’s more satisfying to him is that punishment for him became really arousing. After every punishment, he always resorted to self-gratification. However, his days with his relatives ended when his aunt realized that he was becoming stranger than ever and had once, tried to masturbate while she was hitting him with her husband’s belt. The worst scenario came for him when his relatives kicked him out of their household. He wandered on the streets and his anxiety struck him again. He felt that he didn’t matter. No one wanted him. He was on his own. He was an outcast. He was like a leaf that withered and fell from the twig of a tree. No one bothered why he was walking alone. It was until he became the target of some self-professed gangsters. They beat him on a whim because he looked so fragile, and that was then when Neoma’s father saw him. In the Belmonte Mansion, it seemed that no one would care about him again, so he planned to break a window. He couldn’t carry out his plan then because the young heiress found him before he could smash a stone against their huge glass window pane. Realizing what he was about to do, she suddenly slapped him. He was shocked at first, but when he recovered, he became smitten with her. She noticed him and, having him as her playmate, she always had her attention on him. Although she thinks that she’s tormenting him, he, on the other hand, loves the attention he’s getting from her. “I want you to hurt me more, and I also want to make you happy, Neoma,” Sol told her. Her tears stopped flowing, and she looked at him. She took out a key and freed him from the chains that bound his hands. Neoma sternly looked at him in the eye and said, “If you wish me happiness, then you must serve me.” He gasped in astonishment and replied, “Of course, I will.” It became her turn to smirk at him. “Then, be my dog.”