forΒ allΒ thatΒ herΒ impudenceΒ hasΒ infuriatedΒ himΒ tonight,Β sherryβsΒ sufferingΒ doesΒ notΒ satisfyΒ DIOΒ soΒ muchΒ asΒ itΒ arousesΒ terribleΒ pleasure.Β despiteΒ hisΒ long-festeringΒ irritationΒ overΒ herΒ worseningΒ attitude,Β herΒ arrogance,Β theΒ audacityΒ withΒ whichΒ sheΒ daresΒ toΒ conductΒ herselfΒ inΒ hisΒ presence,Β thereΒ remainsΒ aΒ perverseΒ enjoymentΒ heΒ takesΒ inΒ remindingΒ herΒ ofΒ herΒ place,Β ofΒ evokingΒ theΒ kindΒ ofΒ fearΒ thatΒ wouldΒ crushΒ herΒ misbegottenΒ spiritΒ (Β toΒ thinkΒ sheΒ onceΒ impressedΒ himΒ withΒ thisΒ foolishness!Β sheΒ isΒ fortunateΒ thatΒ inΒ hisΒ betterΒ moods,Β sheΒ amusesΒ himΒ stillΒ ).Β it isΒ reflectedΒ uponΒ theΒ faceΒ ofΒ γ THEΒ WORLD γ ,Β whoΒ meetsΒ theΒ impotentΒ furyΒ ofΒ γ SILVERΒ CHARIOTΒ γ withΒ aΒ wry,Β menacingΒ smirkΒ soΒ muchΒ likeΒ that of itsΒ wielder.
βΒ youβreΒ sorry,Β βΒ β heΒ sneers,Β coldΒ andΒ contemptuousΒ andΒ mocking.Β β βΒ uselessΒ words.Β ofΒ course,Β underΒ threatsΒ ofΒ death,Β youβreΒ sorry.Β β
but, be they tears of genuine remorse or merely a gambit to save her life, her begging works insofar as it assuages his wounded ego. sherry lives, for now, despite her best efforts to ensure otherwise. his iron grip relaxes enough to release her from his grasp, and he watches with disdain as his little knight, so proud even in her imprisonment, collapses into a pathetic heap at his feet.
there is something about seeing her entirely bereft of dignity, so completely and utterly humiliated by his hand, that makes his stomach churn with equal parts repulsion and excitement. he realizes now that he was naive to assume he could toy with her indefinitely. perhaps it was inevitable that her endless well of surprises would run dry, and that her plucky bravery, once so endearing, would become a persistent thorn in his side. that his favorite rose, so beautiful and robust in her prime, would wither and die once picked.
and yet, a withering rose is beautiful in itself, is it not?
cruelty for crueltyβs sake compels DIO to grab sherry once more, this time by her throat. he sinks his claws into her skin and lifts her up, using just enough strength to silence those strangled cries. the temptation to drain her dry and silence her permanently remains ever-present. briefly, he considers the merits of crushing her windpipe, or biting off that bitching tongue. the irony would amuse him temporarily, but alas, he knows better now than to give in to his short-sighted impulses.
instead, heΒ kissesΒ her.Β thereΒ isΒ noΒ illusionΒ ofΒ tendernessΒ likeΒ wasΒ feignedΒ lastΒ night.Β noΒ pretenseΒ ofΒ considerationΒ forΒ theirΒ deal,Β letΒ aloneΒ herΒ pleasure.Β hisΒ kissΒ isΒ cruel, it is hungry,Β it is razor sharp and painful.Β youΒ areΒ mine,Β he growls intoΒ theΒ fresh bruises bloomingΒ aroundΒ herΒ mouth;Β mine,Β suckingΒ the bloodΒ fromΒ herΒ brutalizedΒ lips.Β mineΒ toΒ possess, mine to control, mine to devour to my heart's content. he holds her hostage in this torment until he is satisfied, tossing her aside like one of his dead whores.
βΒ youΒ wantedΒ this.Β rememberΒ that,Β sherry,Β lestΒ iΒ forgetΒ myΒ promise.Β β