Page 40

Sebastian

Three Months later

“I can’t do this. I don’t want to. I’m not doing it.”

Ophelia examines herself in the full-length mirror, tugging at her costume. It’s a much, much sluttier version of a classic Playboy bunny suit—tiny black skirt with a fluffy white tail and black stockings with lace garters. Stiletto heels and a pair of white bunny ears complete the look. I haven’t given her anything to cover her tits.

She looks incredible, and the red-hot blush on her face and chest caps the outfit off nicely.

I stand behind her in the mirror and rest my hand on her hip. She says she doesn’t want to do this, but her blown-out pupils and rock-hard nipples tell a different tale. Still, I make a show of compassion.

“I understand. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just need you to pass one little test, and I’ll call the whole thing off.”

Her eyes widen, and her lip quivers. Did I catch a brief flash of disappointment? “What test? ”

“Lie on the bed for me. Legs spread. Knees bent.”

She shoots me a wary glance but obeys. Once she’s in position, I settle myself on the bed between her legs. “If this pussy of yours isn’t soaking wet, I’ll cancel. Let’s see.”

“But. No. W—” Panic edges her words, and they cut off as I easily slide two fingers into her soaking entrance. I add a third for good measure and slide them in and out a few times, just to make the point.

She groans in defeat, and I smile down at her. “The guys will be here in twenty minutes.”

Her face turns redder than I would have thought possible, and she closes her eyes.

“Actually, hold that pose. I’ve got a present for you.”

Her eyes snap open. “What present?”

“You’ll see. Don’t move an inch.”

I like making her wait in humiliating poses. I take my time finding what I need as she squirms on the bed. “Won’t they think this is weird?”

“I’ve checked with them all, and they’re looking forward to it. And don’t worry, they know the rules. Absolutely no touching.”

She whimpers as I return to the bed. I hold up a towel, determined to make this as embarrassing as possible. “I just need to dry you off first, or it’ll never stick.”

“What? Sebastian, what are you—”

I reach between her legs and carefully dry the skin around her clit before attaching the tiny adhesive device. Ophelia’s breaths come in ragged bursts. “What is this?”

I pull the remote from my pocket and press the button. She squeals as the device vibrates directly on her sensitive clit. It cuts off after two seconds, just as I’ve set it to. She wriggles when it stops and tilts her head to look at me with a question in her eyes .

“Just a little something to add to the fun.” I make a show of checking my watch. “Fifteen minutes. Make sure you’ve done everything you need to do. If you have to use the bathroom during the game, you need to ask my permission, and I imagine you might find that a little embarrassing.”

I don’t know how I’m keeping my face straight when I’m having this much fun. But she needs me to be strict. Otherwise, she might really lose her nerve. “Do you remember what you have to do and the rules? Repeat it for me.”

She pushes herself up to sit next to me and swallows. “Answer the door and show everyone to the table, then kneel by your chair unless someone requests a drink. Don’t speak unless spoken to, but answer all questions politely. Address everyone as sir. Don’t cover myself.” She pauses. “And ask permission if I need to leave the room for any reason.”

“Good pet.” I kiss her head and can’t resist adding, “And have fun. I know you’ll enjoy this.”

She bites her lip and disappears to get ready. When she returns to the living room, I’m already seated at the poker table. I had it brought in just for tonight, and it’s a classic Vegas design—circular and covered in green baize.

The cocktail table, where Ophelia will be mixing drinks, stands off to one side. I brought in a mixologist for a couple of days to teach her how to make the most popular cocktails perfectly, and she’s been having fun with it at Annie’s famous girls’ nights. Tonight will be a little different.

The move into our new place went surprisingly well for two people as picky about our home furnishings as we are. We’ve ended up with the slick, minimalist style we both like, enhanced with a few touches I never thought I’d have. Most notably our little Westie puppy, Alfie. He’s spending the night with Quinn and Jacob .

None of my friends are attending tonight, just acquaintances who love poker. Of all the guests, Ophelia only knows one, and I can’t wait to see her reaction when he walks in.

The heels force Ophelia to stick her ass and tits out, and my God, my cock is an iron bar already. Maybe I should cancel? I could spend the whole night fucking her on this very table.

No. This is going to be too much fun.

The buzzer goes, and Ophelia jumps as though she’s been tasered. I hide my smile. “You’re up, pet.”

She stares between me and the door, and I see the moment panic hits. Her hands fly to her tits, covering them, and she shakes her head. “No. Please.”

I’m on my feet in a second. I stand in front of her and gently pull her hands away. She whimpers but doesn’t fight. “You can do this. I know you want to. Now be a good pet, and don’t keep my guests waiting. Okay?”

She licks her lips, then steels herself. “Okay.”

I take a seat, drowning in pride as she wiggles to the door in her silly shoes. Sometimes, I still can’t quite believe she’s here. That she’s here because she chose this. Chose me. The tattoo on her shoulder is every bit as beautiful as I imagined it, and she loves it, too. She’s even expressed an interest in getting more ink.

“Isn’t that a bit unladylike?” I teased her when she mentioned it.

“Fuck being ladylike,” was her wonderful reply.

She reaches the door and pauses with her hand on the handle before she yanks it open. Two of my guests have arrived together, and they stare at Ophelia as she stands back to let them in. “Welcome, sirs.” Her voice squeaks, but it’s audible at least. “Please follow me to your seats.”

“Gladly.” They both shoot me impressed glances as Ophelia leads them to the table and takes up her position at my feet .

Before she’s had a chance to settle herself, the buzzer goes again, and my guests watch with interest as she gets to her feet. Thomas, a mediocre player but one of the chattier options I had for tonight’s guest list, mutters, “Congratulations. She’s impressive.”

Four of my guests arrive in quick succession and set Ophelia to mixing drinks. She’s still bright red, but focusing on the cocktails seems to settle her. She turns her back to shake a martini, and I call her on that bad behavior right away.

“No, pet. Face us.”

She does and gets to enjoy five pairs of eyes watching her tits as she shakes the drink.

Her eyes are downcast, and she looks embarrassed as hell; but her nipples are bullets, and she’s pressing her legs together. This is driving her crazy, and I can’t resist making it a bit worse. I set the remote control button in the center of the table.

“Every time you want a drink, gents, press this.”

Vishnu, the only player whose skill I rate better than my own, gives it an experimental tap. Poor Ophelia doubles over, face contorting. Again, the vibrations stop after only two seconds. Enough to torment her, but not enough to give her any relief. “I think it’s broken?”

“No, it’s connected to her clit. Believe me, she’ll know.”

His face splits in a wide grin. “You’re evil.”

He taps the button again. “One old-fashioned, please, Ophelia.”

She manages a strangled “Yes, sir” and goes back to her work.

The door buzzer goes one final time. Ophelia heads to answer in a hurry, probably glad to be out of the limelight for a moment. A smile curls my lips as she pulls the door open and comes face to face with Kendrick .

She jumps back, then glances at me as though we’ve been caught doing something we shouldn’t. The same automatic guilt you feel whenever you see a cop on the highway, even when you’re doing the speed limit in a perfectly legal car.

He nods politely, and his eyes never leave Ophelia’s face as he says. “Ophelia. Glad to see you’re settling in well.”

Deadpan as if they’re at a tea party. I’ve never played poker with Kendrick before, and I suspect his poker face will be absolutely impenetrable.

“Th-Thank you, sir. I’ll show you to your seat,” she manages and leads him to the last remaining chair. We all welcome Kendrick, and he maintains the same calm expression as I explain the drinks ordering method. Not a flicker of amusement or desire.

He presses the buzzer once and politely orders a whiskey on the rocks. I stare. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never once drunk whiskey in any form other than straight. Exactly two seconds later, he presses the button again. “My apologies, Ophelia. I meant to order it straight.”

She squeaks out, “Of course, sir,” and he catches my eye. For one single second, his lip twitches up into a smile, then he’s straight back to his usual serious self. Maybe, just maybe, he might be human after all.

We settle into the serious business of poker. As the night progresses, I gradually turn up the timer on Ophelia’s buzzer. First three seconds. Then four. Her movements become increasingly jerky, and she gasps every time it’s pressed. She spills a drink on the table, and her hands shake as she cleans it up.

As we approach the end of the night, I change the setting to one minute.

She’s kneeling at my feet when Thomas presses the button. “Another martini please. ”

“Yes, si–” She cuts off, staring up at me. I smile and watch her eyes widen as the vibrations don’t stop.

“Thomas asked for a drink, pet,” I prompt. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

“But I— It–” All eyes watch her as she presses her hands to the floor and bites her lip as the orgasm hits. She doesn’t quite manage to hold back her moan, and it rings out loud in the silent room. I wait until it passes before tapping her shoulder and speaking in my sternest voice.

“Drink. Now.”

She struggles to her feet, face beetroot red.

I lose count of how many more times she comes before I finally say goodbye to my guests. By the end, she’s covered in sweat and the drinks are thrown together haphazardly, more pure alcohol than anything else. Kendrick takes the pot, and I make Ophelia kneel to present him with the vintage bottle of Hennessy Paradis I chose as the prize.

“Press the button one last time. For good luck,” I urge, and he does, watching calmly as Ophelia curls up at his feet with a tormented moan.

“She did very well tonight. I must say, I strongly disapproved of your choice, but she’s the perfect Ward for you. An excellent acquisition.”

The other guests agree, and I see them out myself, leaving Ophelia on the floor, absolutely spent.

We’re finally alone.

I pick Ophelia up off the floor and carry her into the bedroom. Tomorrow, she’ll be herself again. She’ll be my sharp, brilliant girl who is breezing her way through her anatomy course like it’s easy. Who is tackling her nemesis, math, with the help of an excellent tutor .

Tomorrow, she’ll be smart and funny and go back to lighting up my life with her wit.

But that’s tomorrow. Tonight, she’s none of those things. Right now, she’s just my pet, with nothing in her pretty little empty head beside a desire to please me. I love both sides of her. Everything about her, if I’m honest, and as I lock the shackle around her ankle, I’ve never felt happier.

“Just one last job, pet, before you sleep.”

She knows what to do.

I’m so desperate that the feel of her lips alone almost tips me over the edge. I don’t draw it out—she’s barely conscious—so I use her mouth like it’s my hand, controlling her movements until I shoot down her perfect throat.

She gives a contented sigh, licks her lips, and settles herself into her pet bed like she was born to be there. She was. She was fucking made for me.

I cover her with her blanket and climb into bed. How long until I throw another poker night? I’m already so full of ideas; it can’t come soon enough.

***

The next afternoon, I finish work in time to collect Ophelia from her shift in Medical. Today is a big day for her, and she’s had mixed feelings about it. Hadrian’s Ward is arriving, and Dr. Robert is allowing Ophelia to assist with doing the testing and fitting her tracker.

I told her she didn’t have to participate if she wasn’t comfortable, but she insisted. “I want to care for everyone here. This is part of it.”

She’s brave like that .

Two Gilda guards wait outside Medical but nod and wave me through. I enter the silent clinic and almost jump out of my fucking skin when a man steps out of the shadows looking like something from a horror movie.

A mask covers his face. It’s demonic, stylized into a twisted expression, but it shifts as I watch it. The lips move, flowing like sand in an hourglass.

I take a step back, heart pounding, but he holds his hands up. “Sebastian. It’s me. Hadrian.”

I don’t recognize the voice, either. It’s far deeper, far more gravelly than his natural tone. I lean forward to examine him. “What the hell is all this?”

“It’s a prosthetic and a voice changer.” He touches the side of his face. “She’s not going to know it’s me.”

“Who isn’t?” It takes me a second, but then it clicks. “Your Ward?”

“Yes.” He beckons me over. “Look.”

The eerie, horror-movie feeling doesn’t dissipate as I walk toward the sleeping woman on the table, covered to the neck with a sheet. Curly red hair spills off the table in a wave. A horrible suspicion settles over me, and as her face comes into view, it solidifies.

She’s the spitting fucking image of Candice.

He stands beside me. “Beautiful, isn’t she? We were high school sweethearts. Married for ten years until she betrayed me.”

“What?” I find myself glancing at the door to the staff room. Where the hell are Ophelia and Dr. Roberts? Why have they left me alone with this freak? Whoever this woman is, I pity her.

“She found my research unethical and turned me in. It set me back years. But”—he strokes a tendril of hair back from her face, revealing a spray of freckles—“after the divorce, I discovered something very interesting. ”

“What was that?”

He turns his sinister mask my way. I can’t see which way he’s looking, and it sets me on edge. “She had some interesting fantasies, my Juliet. She never shared them with me, but I found it all after I did some digging.”

He turns back to his ex-wife. “Masked men, abuse. You name it. And if that’s what she wants—” The mask twists, and I can only assume it’s supposed to be a smile, though the effect is eerie. “—that’s what she’s going to fucking get.”