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DECLAN

A low, genuine laugh rumbles in my chest as I catch Ebony’s muttered curse.

Anal.

Fuck. That would’ve been perfect.

A sly smile curves my mouth as the girls are led into the cream room—walls painted a bland, sterile shade. But there’s nothing neutral about what’s coming next. The game here isn’t about color. It’s about control. About breaking through that final layer of resistance and watching it crack.

Ebony holds the best weapon in the room, and she doesn’t even realize it.

That curve on the tip is designed to shatter a woman from the inside out.

But only if she lets go long enough to use it right.

That’s her problem.

She’s always calculating.

Always locked in her head, planning an escape no one’s offering.

But the look on her face right now… the confusion twisting those sharp features…

It’s fucking beautiful.

I can’t wait for the realization to hit her.

A thrill runs down my spine as she’s guided to the bed. Four of them line the room, spaced evenly apart, each bolted with worn leather restraints, stiff from use. Heavy chains coil from the headboards to steel collars, waiting to wrap around soft throats.

If they jerk forward, try to rise; they choke.

It’s that simple.

Surrender or suffocate.

Once the guards finish strapping them down, it’s my turn to stir the pot.

I clear my throat, press the speaker button, and let my voice slide across the room like silk pulled tight over a blade.

“Welcome to Room Three, ladies. It’s called the Cream Room. Not because of the bland-ass walls, though.”

Ebony’s right leg twitches. She’s trying not to squirm, squeezing her thighs like they’re the only things holding her together.

“This room may actually give you a little… relief.”

Tara, the one with the absurdly large dildo, grins.

She has no idea.

No fucking clue what’s at stake here.

But my girl does.

She’s still. Focused. Ready.

That’s why she’s behaving so goddamn well.

Because she understands the cost of failure.

And whether she knows it or not, she’s already mine.

“I’ll put you out of your misery,” I continue, eyes locked on the screen. “The game is simple. You’re going to make it rain for me. Using your toy, your fingers…whatever you need. The only way into the next room is by setting your mind free.”

Ebony stiffens like I’ve cracked her spine with those words.

Then she turns her head, avoiding the camera.

My jaw ticks.

No.

I want her eyes.

I want her defiance, her arousal, her fear—all of it.

Her eyes tell me what she won’t say.

“And by rain,” I drawl, slow and sharp, “I mean you have to make yourself squirt for your Master. You should be thanking me—for allowing you to come as many times as it takes. The first three women to complete the task move on.”

The guards step back, placing themselves behind the girls’ heads.

They’ll need the illusion of privacy to surrender fully.

To let go enough to come that hard, that loud.

“Time to show me how well you know yourselves. How far you’re willing to go for a golden ticket to freedom. Show me what you can do.”

My finger hovers over the button for just a second longer.

“Have fun. Let me hear you.”

I cut the feed and lean back in my chair, the ache in my chest twisting into hunger.

I zoom in.

Her.

Always her.

I’m itching to get my hands on that body.

That mouth. That fire and fury she tries so damn hard to suppress.

But for that to happen?—

She has to win.