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muscular curve. To place a kiss there. Need runs through my system like a shock, like lightning. I try to swallow it down.
    “She’s fighting it. Fighting something. I don’t know how far you’ll be able to take her training if you can’t work her past it, Damon. But she does love it. She needs it.”
    “She does. Look at this,” he says, bending to swipe his fingers between my thighs.
    I gasp, pleasure shivering over my skin.
    He holds his hand out to the Mistress, and she strokes one finger over his. She smiles.
    “Absolutely soaking wet. It doesn’t surprise me.” Holding my chin in her fingers—one of them still wet with my own juices—she says to me, “You’re turned on by us discussing you, aren’t you, Girl? You like to be objectified. And you love the pain, even if you hate it. But I don’t think you do.” She smiles, then drops my chin.
    I want to answer her, but of course I am allowed to do no such thing, even if I weren’t gagged. But she’s right. About everything.
    “She’ll get plenty of that here,” the Master says. “Perhaps from you, since you’re staying the weekend, unless you’re too busy with my boy. By the way, I’ll have him sent straight to your room tonight, if you want.”
    “That would be wonderful. I’d play with your new toy, but I can only stay tonight, and I really would like Christopher right away.”
    “You shall have him.”
    “Thank you for your generosity, Damon.”
    He nods at her, catches me watching and slaps my cheek. I have to blink the tears away. “Eyes down, Girl, unless instructed otherwise.”
    My cheek burns, but shame at having displeased him, at having forgotten myself, burns deeper than the small slap, scalding me to the core. I must remember myself. I was so much better for Master Graham. He called me a “push-button” slave. But Master Graham never challenged my senses the way the Master does. The way the futility of any struggle against this place and the chosen powerlessness of my contract do.
    I am so in love with everything about this place.
    His attention has turned back to the Mistress as the valet comes into the room, which I know from the toes of his shiny black shoes. My eyes are glued to the Persian carpet.
    “Robert, see that Christopher is bathed and sent to Mistress Alexa’s room.”
    “Yes, Sir. Right away. Mistress, may I escort you to the east wing?”
    “No, Robert—I prefer you see that Christopher is readied for me. Give him a good enema before you bring him.”
    “Yes, Mistress.”
    I hear her kiss the Master’s cheek. “I may miss dinner tonight. And Christopher may not be able to sit down for a week.”
    “Of course.”
    “Don’t sound so amused.”
    “Alexa, darling, we are always amused at the thought of you fucking one of my boys with your enormous, harnessed cock all night.”
    “I think you need to find some way to amuse yourself, Damon. All work and no play is making you a dull Dom.”
    “Hardly, Alexa. But luckily, my work is play.”
    “As is mine. And I plan to play very, very hard tonight.”
    “So do I.”
    She laughs, and I can feel it aimed at me. But I don’t mind. All I can think of, all I can hope, is that he means with me . This makes me wet again. It also terrifies me.
    I understand perfectly well that part of what I agreed to when I signed the slave contract was being broken in to a new house, to a new Master. This is going to be very, very hard, as he said. I am shivering all over. Wet. Ready. Wanting whatever cruel lessons he sees fit to dole out. I am ready to be his.
    The Master stands in silence as Mistress Alexa’s stiletto heels retreat down the hallway. I don’t know what he’s waiting for. What he plans to do. Of course I don’t. My arms have already begun to ache from being bound for so long. Taking a breath, I try to sink into the ache, but my poor brain is too much all over the place. Everything is too new. I try to roll my shoulders, and there is just enough give to get