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“With that said,” Reese went on. “We have a fifth, separate station that will be unattended. Partly because so many signed up—which we’re happy about—partly to ensure we have enough staff at each station, and partly to have a spot to send everyone if we feel a certain station gets too crowded. If that happens, we might send a group to the fifth station more than once.”

Penelope leaned forward and asked what had to be a scripted question. “And what’s this fifth station about?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Reese chuckled. “We are announcing an official mascot competition. Each and every one of you will be encouraged to illustrate a mascot for our community, and the four judges will pick out our top ten. Afterward, those ten contributions will be photographed and posted online, where the entire community can vote.” He paused briefly while brats like Corey and Kit whooped their excitement. “We won’t tell you how or what to draw, but I will say that the judges will choose according to these following guidelines. The mascot needs to represent the whole community. It can’t be too vulgar. If you write Team House Mclean on it, it’ll get disqualified?—”

“Booo!”

“Boo!”

“Lame!”

“This is pure censorship!”

Reese just smirked. “Lastly, make sure you write your online username next to the illustration.”

Well, I wasn’t sure I was gonna enjoy that so much. At best, I could draw a stick figure with a flogger.

“The mascot thing won’t be part of the Game, right?” I asked Ash. “I won’t be able to score us squat with my stick figures.”

He laughed through his nose. “Nah, it’s just a side thing.”

Phew. Bad enough I had to be judged on grace, obedience, and…whatever else they’d mentioned. Something like how well I knew my Owner. Oh, and performance.

Dammit, I was nervous again!

“The event begins in five minutes,” Jack stated. “That’s when we start registering every infraction we see, and that’s when you need to be present at your first station. Good luck, everyone.”

I chewed on my lip as Ash and I scanned the piece of paper again. Our first station was Treat Your Owner, which was located behind us. We’d go there twice during the event, and given that August King was decked out in chef’s clothes, it was safe to assume we’d cook something. Or bake? Maybe?

The people around us started moving, and Owners were slinging reminders to their slaves.

“You ready, li’l cub?”

I took a deep breath. “Fuck yeah, Big Bear.”

“Then let’s do this. Activate slave mode.” He freaking booped me on the nose, like it was some button.

I cracked up and shoved at him.

He was very pleased with his joke.

But then it was go-time, and I took another deep breath and got serious. Ash took the lead, and I walked behind him as instructed.

We joined up with Greer and Archie, and Kingsley and Tate weren’t far behind. Lastly, two Daddies who couldn’t predict how things would go with their Littles, Camden and Noa.

“I’m prepared for anything,” KC said.

“Same here,” Anthony chuckled.

August smiled from the other side of the long tables. “Welcome to your first station. I’m Chef King, and your slave’s task is very simple. Each slave lifts one lid, reads the recipe, and creates a dough. They have ten minutes.”

Oh my gosh. Okay. Okay. Ten minutes. To bake something—got it. I could do that.

I noticed he wasn’t speaking to us, just our Owners. I supposed that was part of it.

Camden snuck out from behind Anthony and waved at August. “Hi, Daddy,” he whispered.

I stifled my grin. Good thing we hadn’t started yet!