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I pull open the top drawer of the dresser, and my fingers linger over the various shades of silk and lace as I select my panties for the day.
While Grant might not be all warm and fuzzy, he takes care of me. He doesn’t keep me chained in the basement, living in my own filth as he uses me for his pleasure. Instead, he bathes me with expensive soaps, clothes me in luxurious garments, and keeps me in his bed. And while he does regularly use me for his pleasure, he fully enjoys the power he has over my pleasure as well. Nearly always forcing me to have multiple orgasms—apart from denial for punishments.
Grant walks into the bedroom as I’m lifting a pair of pale pink, silk panties adorned with black lace. His eyes appear to be approving as I slide them up my legs. Forgoing a bra, I walk into the closet to grab a maxi dress and a sweater.
“I like that one.” Grant’s eyes roll over the sleek, plum tank dress as I smooth it down my thighs, and I momentarily relish in his blessing. I pull the matching, cropped sweater on before returning to the bathroom to pull my hair into a messy bun.
By the time I return to the bedroom, Grant has dressed. He’s wearing dark denim jeans, a well-fitted gray Henley, and a pair of camel-colored dress boots. Even when he’s being casual, he always looks so put together.
“I need to go meet with Edmund for a bit.” His fingers gingerly wrap around my throat. Squeezing gently, the damp leather of the collar rubs uncomfortably against my skin.
A humbling reminder of what it is that I am to him.
“Are you going to be a good little pet while I’m gone?” He uses his grip to tilt my face up to his.
“Of course, sir,” I respond.
“Good girl,” he grumbles before roughly kissing my lips. “I’ll be back for dinner.”
Grant walks from the room, and I question what to do now. He hasn’t left me alone here in weeks, and this is the first time that he’s ever left without putting me into the cage in the corner of the room.
Is this a test?
Do I put myself in there?
Or is he giving me free rein of the house without him being present?
Walking to the doorway, I stand at the threshold of the bedroom and the hallway, frozen with the decision that lies before me. My hands grip each side of the doorframe as I waver between my choices. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I push myself into the hallway.
My fingers trail against the wainscoting as I casually make my way down the hallway to the next available door.
The room full of Grant’s toys for me.
Stepping inside, it feels weird to be in here without Grant. Wandering around the room, there is so little that he has not yet introduced me to. Ropes, benches, nipple clamps, more vibrators and wands than I can count, anal plugs, that dreaded fucking Sybian machine he likes to make me ride…
What is that?
A red, leather box on a shelf at the rear of the room catches my attention. My fingers graze over the tufted lid, admiringthe beautiful details of the engraved dark metal adorning the corners. Lifting the lid, it feels as though I am violating Grant’s privacy. Yet, when I catch a glimpse of a photo of myself on the top, I can’t stop myself.
Grabbing a handful of photos, the first few are of me. Each showcases the intricate shibari that Grant is such a fan of. Looking at the photos, I can see why—it’s a beautiful art form. Continuing through the photos, each details his intricate knot work.
With so many different women.
The only relatable feature between them all is their eyes. They are all filled with so much terror, that I can practically feel their fear. All of them, except for one. Hers are filled with trepidatious adoration for the person behind the camera lens. I’ve seen that look before—in my own photos.
I’ve seen her before too. I just can’t place where.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
GRANT
Turning into The Preserves, I can’t help but admire the development that Edmund is building on the outskirts of Adelaide Cove. While it’s not quite isolated enough for my tastes, it is beautiful. Each plot is two or three acres, with a sprawling, brick, mini-estate.
This entire neighborhood is full of memories and dark secrets.
Making a left onto Topaz Circle, my eyes catch the third house on the left. A deep-red brick with well-placed ivy trailing down the corners.
