Page 39 of Pierced

I thought for sure he’d run when he saw Sebastian. And hell, that was being generous. I really thought he’d run the moment he saw Dave and Betty.

But the cats aren’t enough.

So now what?

How do I scare him out of this? How do I hand in my resignation as the winner?

Because that was always the end game. I have no future at Le Man as a VP. I don’t even want to be a VP. I don’t even need the fucking money. I stay there for him. It’s always been for him. And this stupid job is… well, stupid. I can’t go on working there as Myrtle Rothschild, VP of Social Media. I just can’t.

And I refuse to leave with my tail tucked between my legs. If I’m walking out on Pierce Chevalier, then I’m walking out on my terms, not because I lost playing this stupid game.

Pierce drags the gag down his face. “Myrtle?”

“What?” I whisper.

“Are you going to show me?”

“Show you what?” I ask, turning away from him. Because I suddenly have no idea what I’m doing. What the fuck was I thinking? Inviting my boss down here? He’s in a cage, for fuck’s sake!

“Who you are.”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “No. That’s not why you’re here, Pierce.”

“Well… I am here. So you better deal with it. Because I’m not leaving.”

Get your shit together, Myrtle. You have to do something and you have to do it now.

I reach into the top of my corset and pull out a lighter and I start lighting candles. Because I have no clue what’s happening right now. This started out as a joke. A way to get even. A way to get out of this stupid relationship. Which is also stupid, because it’s not a relationship. I thought it was at least a friendship, but I was wrong about that too.

So I just light the candles. There are dozens of them around the room. Tall candelabras with thick pillars on top. Two on each side of my… equipment.

And when I’m done, I turn back to him, his face flickering with the soft glow of candlelight. He stares back at me, then slips the gag back in place and nods his head.

“First,” I say, walking over to a table. There’s various paddles, whips, and devices neatly laid out on top of crushed red velvet. Other things too. Hoods, and collars, and spreader bars. I make a selection, still unsure of how this night went so spectacularly wrong, walk back over to him, open the cage, and say, “Give me your wrists. I’m going to handcuff you now.”

He does this. Willingly. And I can’t help but be a little impressed. My first trip down to a dungeon certainly didn’t go this way. I was scared to death. And maybe he is scared? Maybe he’s just better at hiding it than I was.

But he doesn’t look scared. Not when I lock the cuffs around his wrists and not when I fasten them to the bars of the cage. Not even when Sebastian walks over to the side of the cage next to Pierce, flops down, and begins to chuff—that weird half-purr, half-growl thing only tigers do.

Pierce just looks at him and huffs some air out his nose. As if they’re sharing a moment. Some kind of caged-animal camaraderie.

I lock the cage back up and walk over to the first piece of equipment. Then I clear my throat and say, “OK. Welcome to BDSM 101. I’m your mistress and this is what you can expect.”

I start with the most daunting piece of dungeon furniture.

“This is the stockade,” I say, picking up a candle so he can get a good look at it. “Your wrists will go in here. Your ankles are fastened down here.” I point to the bar between those two parts. “And you bend over this. Any questions?”

He smiles through the ball gag and shakes his head.

“This,” I say, walking on to the next piece of furniture, “is the punishment bench. Extreme deluxe version. I think it’s self-explanatory.”

I walk on, stopping again. “This is the lock-down system. I call it the rack, but it’s not for stretching you out like the torture device of the same name, just… immobilizing you in an upright position.”

I move on, going over each piece of furniture, then make my way to the table and start picking up the smaller things. “This is a spreader. I don’t think I’ll use it on you, but I like to have it just in case. This is a cock cage. This is a thigh sling. This is a…” It goes on like that for several minutes. I look back at him after each explanation, trying to decipher his thoughts.

But I have no idea what Pierce is thinking right now. None.

All I know is that he nods. He just… agrees.