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“Feeling better, Kitten?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
“Good, now drop the towel and kneel.”
The air goes out of my lungs, and both the fear and excitement I haven't felt in weeks is back in one sudden rush. And yet I feel self-conscious. I had gotten so used to being their naked caged animal, but now I've become used to the civilizing influence of clothing. I unconsciously clutch the fabric tight across myself.
“I don't want to start with punishment,” Seven says.
I take a deep breath and let the towel fall. Then I kneel on a soft pale rug in front of them.
“Good girl.” This time it's Declan who speaks.
Seven reaches behind him to pick up something from the bed. It's a round silver-colored metal band. There are glittering pale pink gemstones inlaid in the metal, which is probably platinum. He uses a key to unlock it, then puts it around my throat and locks it in place.
“The collar doesn't come off. It's safe to get it wet. Every day you'll be allowed to leave the property from eleven in the morning until six in the evening. The penthouse, car, and money remain yours.”
They're letting me come and go? How do they know I won't run if whatever this is becomes too much for me? It's possible this question is plainly readable on my face because Seven's next words are: “There's a tracking device in the collar. Don't make us chase you.”
So not really free, just a very long leash. I'm still confused by their generosity. I can't square it with what they've done to me. And I can't figure out where exactly they exist on the good and evil scale. I keep foolishly wanting to believe maybe they aren't that evil. But even I can't pretend they've only engaged in a little harmless coloring outside the moral lines.
“Let's take her to the dungeon,” Declan says. “We have more interesting things down there.”
“True, and we can finally play without the pretense.”
A strangled sob escapes my throat at this pronouncement.
“Shhh, Pretty Toy. We don't hurt good girls, and you're going to be our good girl, right?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
I'm already mentally plotting ways to escape. I can use my “prison yard time” to find someone who can get this fucking collar off me and transfer money out of that account and get the fuck as far from them as possible—like I should have done from the beginning. It doesn't matter how much I want and need them to touch me. I cannot continue down this road.
Declan chuckles, as though he can read these thoughts right out of my head. And probably he can. I'm not able to hide my true feelings in the way they can behind a face trained to show the expected emotions.
“You will not seek help from any of the staff as they come and go. They're all here illegally. They know the consequences of interfering in our personal affairs. And you will be seriously punished,” Declan says.
I swallow hard and nod my understanding. I believe him. Somehow I know I've never been seriously punished by them. I may have been played with and by them, but my punishments have been warnings... tastes of theoretical terrors should I breach the limits of their patience.
Seven helps me to stand, and they lead me downstairs, back down that long hallway to the dungeon. My heart is beating so fast, and I don't know if it's fear or arousal.
The dungeon feels different now. As much as I loved the Seven who I thought was trying to protect me, I also kind of hated him. I hated that extra bit of shame I felt because he wasn't fully on board. I hated that I had to carry that shame long after I was already broken and ready to please and be pleased by both of them.
He was always the holdout, except that he never was.
When we get to the dungeon, I kneel again. I don't wait to be commanded. I just do it.
“Good girl,” Seven says. It continues to feel strange when he takes this role that had previously only been Declan's domain. He bends down, his hand going between my legs. “I think it's time to wax this pussy, don't you, Kitten?”
My breath goes shallow. “Y-yes, Master.”
“I'll heat the wax,” Declan says, disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.
I'm scared now because waxing hurts, and I don't have the greatest pain threshold. After a while, you get used to it, and it's not so bad when a professional does it. But Seven and Declan aren't professionals, and I'm afraid it will hurt more because of that. But I don't voice this concern. I do, however, wish that I'd made a waxing appointment for Friday before I went out for drinks. I knew it was about time to do it, but I was so wrapped up in my own self-pity—poor little newly rich girl—that it didn't occur to me.
Seven helps me off the floor and guides me to a St. Andrew's Cross leaned against one exposed brick wall. I've never been bound to this before. Spanking benches, yes. And the bondage bed was Declan's favorite. It's convenient and far more comfortable than it looks.
“M-Master? Did I do something wrong?”
