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“Are you ready to behave, Marigold? Or would you rather I give you a few more hours in the kennel?” His deep demeaning voice annoyed the fuck out of her.
She had no choice but to swallow her pride and obey him. “Yes, Sir,” she muttered.
“Louder,” he boomed. “I can’t hear you.”
She cleared her throat, lifting her forehead off the hard metal. Urine dripped down into her eyes. “I’ll be good, Sir,” she stated with more force.
“What’s your name, slave?”
“Marigold, Sir.” She hated the name, and she didn’t understand why he’d insisted on calling her that.
“What are you?”
“A slave, Sir.”
He kicked the side of the kennel, jarring it so that her urine sloshed up around her knees and elbows and splashed against her face. “You pissed yourself.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.” It was hard to keep her voice from wobbling, and she hated for him to see her weak.
“Do you think my men enjoy cleaning up your piss, slave?”
“No, Sir.” Did he think she enjoyed peeing on herself? The fucking asshole.
“I’m going to release you. I expect you to back out of the kennel and crawl over to the drain. Do you think you can do that without backtalking or lifting your insolent gaze?”
“Yes, Sir.” She pursed her lips. Her feelings about that fucking drain were mixed. On the one hand, she didn’t want to spend any more time with urine dripping off her hair and down her face. On the other hand, she knew what awaited her at the drain. His men would force her to stand, yank her aching arms over her head, cuff her wrists to chains hanging from the ceiling, and then dowse her with cold water from a garden hose.
If only they stopped at that, maybe she could hold on to a shred of dignity, but Master J would watch while the men ran their fucking hands all over her body, soaping her up before rinsing her off in the cold water again.
She needed to keep her eyes closed and think of anything else in the world while they touched her. While they forced her nipples to grow hard and her pussy to get wet. While they tormented her and humiliated her and broke her.
As Master J unfastened her wrists, she drew in a slow deep breath and made a vow to herself.
Live, dammit.
Live.
She only had one hope in the world.
Damon.
She chose to pretend he would come for her. It was madness, but it was all she had.
Live.
Don’t let them break you. Dissociate. Think of anything else but their fucking hands on you. Endure the washing.
She could do it. She could eat the cold oatmeal that had been sitting just out of reach for over an hour. She could drink the glass of water to wash it down. She could crawl over to her cot, spread her legs, and let them restrain her.
Let sleep take her under.
Endure. Fight. Live.
Chapter 1
Gemma
Three years later…
