Page 183 of Malicious Claim

So I went.

Damn. I had to admit, what I saw was kind of terrifying.

This wasn't like the dungeon he had in Italy. That one almost looked cute compared to this. Like an Airbnb with handcuffs. This room? This one looked like something out of a nightmare. Or a really dark fantasy. I wasn't sure which.

The room was lit with red lights, hanging low from the ceiling, making everything glow in this weird, sexy way. The room was bigger than I expected, way deeper. Like it just kept going.

Leather cuffs hung from a bar on the far wall. There was a bench in the middle, definitely not meant for sitting down. Next to it was a flat board with straps and something that looked like a frame used to hang people upside down. My stomach twisted. I could already picture myself tied to that bench, struggling, maybe begging. That thought shouldn't have excited me... but it kind of did.

There was a cabinet full of stuff I recognized, blindfolds, gags, paddles, floggers, clamps. All the usual stuff. Some I'd used, some I'd seen, some I'd only watched in movies or read in books. Talk about living a life out of a movie.

Then my eyes hit the corner.

A steel cage.

And on top of it... a collar and a black chain.

I just stood there.

Frozen.

My chest tightened, like I couldn't take a full breath.

I didn't know what I felt at first. Fear? Disgust? Curiosity? Maybe all of them hit me at once. I wasn't sure.

The collar. That's what did it for me. It wasn't the cuffs or the bench or even the cage. It was that stupid little thing just sitting there like it was waiting for me. Like it knew.

My thoughts started spinning, what did he expect me to do in here? What was I supposed to say? Did he want me to like it? Was this supposed to be some twisted surprise?

Part of me wanted to run. Just turn around and leave before he said anything. But another part... the part I hated... wanted to know more. Wanted to feel what it would be like to give in, to lose control completely. And that made me feel sick. And excited. And ashamed.

I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want him to see whatever expression was on my face because I didn't even understand it myself.

I just stood there, hoping he wouldn't speak. Because if he did, I wasn't sure what would come out of me.

Tears? A scream? Or something worse.

Makros didn't give me time to catch my breath.

He walked straight to the velvet cabinet, ready for action. He opened a drawer. Pulled something out. And came back toward me.

My brain was yelling at me to move, to say something, to react, maybe by hitting him with something. But I did nothing. I just stood there like an idiot while my heart pounded like a drum in my ears.

"Put these on," he said, his tone low and authoritative.

I looked down at what he held out: sexy black lingerie, delicate lace with a naughty edge and thigh-high socks.

So. he wanted me to get dressed up like an expensive hoe.

Noted.

I took the set from him, our hands meeting for only an instant to leave a bolt of warmth up my arm. He remained where he was, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—waiting.

"Where is the changing room?" I asked, half in hesitation. Half to provoke.

Makros arched an eyebrow. His face didn't flinch. "You can change here."

Of course I could.