My sweet marionette

The floor is cool enough for your warm feet?

Have the accommodations been satisfactory?

This is my home.

You are my guest.

Yet you treat me as though I am a stranger.

I care for you, can't you see?

My apologies.

I seem to have forgotten where I laid your eyes.

They told me not to play with puppets on strings when I was a child.

Said dolls weren't proper.

But you, my sweet, aren't like the others.

I'm infatuated by what's left of you.

How submissive you have become.

It's easier when you are controlled, my dear.

No need to pout.

Or whine.

It's all just for fun.

You were made to please me.

That is your only purpose, my love.

For when I have grown tired of the games.

When your frame starts to decay.

I'll clean up your living quarters for the next one.

But I fear I cannot wait for that day.

You have grown old and worn.

Forgive me, my Marionette for pulling your strings too soon.