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“Chains do, though.”
I can tell he’s trying not to react, but the muscles in his thick neck betray him. I sit back in my chair and cross my legs.
“Tell me why,” I repeat. His eyes don’t leave mine, and I feel a flutter run through my belly. I once thought his eyes were just black, but in the true light, the deepest of blues shows through. I find myself lost in his gaze but see the moment he decides.
“I won’t tell you what you want to know, and you won’t let me go. Better to be a dog off a leash than on one. I’d rather work for you than be in chains.”
My eyes narrow on him, my senses alone telling me that there isn’t a submissive bone in this man's massive body. Telling me about Huntske certainly benefited me, and the logic may be that pleasing me will benefit him, but I’m not buying it.
Could be fun to play along, a playful inner voice whispers.
His eyes measure me closely, waiting for my reaction.
I let my mouth turn up.
“A dog, is it?”
His jaw tightens more, and his eyes narrow, but he doesn’t respond. I shoot him a wink before pulling out my phone, typing a rapid message to Hannah. The woman must already be used to my strange requests because within twenty seconds she’s responded, saying she’ll have the items I asked for down shortly.
“Excellent,” I say to myself as I click the phone off and toss it on the desk behind me. “Now while we wait, why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t give you to the Butcher now that you’ve helped me?”
His expression changes to a humored one, no surprise or fear that the help he gave could equal torture.
“Because you won’t,” he tells me.
I’m going to give myself wrinkles soon if my eyebrows keep going up so often. And he really has to learn not to push me. Time to step up my game.
Keeping the smile on my face, I sit back and wait. It’s less than five minutes before I hear a knock at the door. Without opening it completely, I take the items from Hannah then quickly shut it behind her.
Keeping my back to Sin, I look over them and smile to myself. Perfect.
I turn back around and saunter over to him, relishing the look of wariness on his face.
“You want what exactly?” I begin, pacing in front of him. “You say you don’t care if I kill you, you don’t care if I torture you. You know I won’t let you go. So what is it you want? To work for me? I’ve seen stranger methods of attempting to gain my favor, but not many. So,Sin. Why should I do anything but toss a bag over your head and leave you to rot? The simple answer is I shouldn’t. So, here’s what we’re going to do.”
His eyes widen as I pull out the collar and wave the piece of leather in front of him.
“You will let me put this on you. You do that, and you pass your first test.”
Sin’s jaw tics as his eyes dart to the leather then back to my face, growling as he leans as far back as his chains will allow.
“Fuck you,” he hisses.
I laugh. “That’s what I thought.”
Before he can react or say anything further, I turn and grab the burlap bag and shove it roughly over his head. For once, he struggles against his chains. I take an involuntary step back as his entire torso flexes with effort, doing everything to shake the bag free.
“Fucking cunt! I’ll fucking kill you!”
I was looking forward to putting this collar on him, but with him thrashing about, it’ll have to wait. I could call guards to help, but then another idea occurs to me.
Before I leave, I walk over to the sound system. I’ve used metal music and headphones before. Forcing someone to listen to loud and annoying music is a fabulous form of mental torture. Something tells me that the usual thrash metal and scream soundtracks won’t work on Sin, though.
I scroll through one of my playlists until my eyes land on one, and I snort, pressing play and turning up the volume as loud as it will go.
A good torturess knows that pain has many forms.
“Sweet dreams, asshole.”
