Page 26

The next morning

I sit in bed for what feels like hours before I drag myself over to the kitchen. I desperately need some strong coffee, and I should probably go down and give my pets some sustenance as well.

I woke up feeling numb by what they told me and what I found on that fucking phone. But I feel strangely alive today, like I can do anything, my dark and shattered little heart desires.

I feel a little bad for them after listening to their whispered conversation last night after I left the basement. The sound quality of my surveillance system is impeccable.

Grabbing my phone, I tap on the app that controls the smart equipment in the basement. I have no time for feelings of guilt and pity, so I shake it off. “Morning, pets,” I announce over the intercom as I play around with the lighting from the app.

I feel like the dim red has lost its touch and I want a brighter, more serious mood in there today.

Their groans and the sound of chains clinking reverberate through my phone as I watch them squint and blink against the white light.

Taking a few sips of my coffee as I take a seat by the kitchen island, I start, “Shower first or food and water? Raise one hand for the shower and two for food.”

To my surprise they obey in an instant—both of them raise one hand.

Not so fun waking up covered in dried cum, is it, pets?

“Very well,” I say, zooming in on their tired but handsome faces. I take my time, making breakfast first and getting dressed before heading downstairs.

Unlocking the door as loudly as possible to announce my arrival, I toss a bag of clothes downstairs before I descend into the basement to greet them with breakfast. I place the plates of food down on the table at the far end of the room and start toward Fintan.

They have not uttered a single word since I stepped inside their cage . The look of anger and reluctant obedience is vivid in their eyes.

“Get up,” I say as I unlock his chain and guide Fintan to the basement bathroom. “Don’t try anything stupid,” I warn as I help him undress and get into the shower.

Fintan stands quietly under the warm spray of the water, his gaze fixed on the tiled floor. I watch him intently, studying his every move for any signs of defiance.

“Hands,” I instruct firmly, as I reach for the metal cuffs around his wrists. He hesitates for a moment before raising them toward me.

“There’s a good pet,” I remark, my voice laced with a mix of authority and approval. The heat of his anger radiates off his body as he stands before me, wearing nothing but his collar.

Fuck, he looks delicious. Wait, are those…scars?

I remove the restraints carefully, keeping a close eye on him to ensure compliance as I stare at his beautifully marked frame.

He lets out a growl and heat flashes in his gaze as I trail my fingertips over his raised skin. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, little Dove,” he says in a low, menacing tone as he meets my gaze.

His cock is already at half-mast as a predatory smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I will do what I please to my pets. If you obey me, I might consider giving you a treat, but disobey or threaten me and you’ll regret it,” I warn as I look him up and down in the steamy shower.

He ignores my clear warning and closes the distance between us, trapping my body against the wall with his hands on either side of my shoulders as he breathes me in.

One quick jolt from the collar sends him stepping back a few paces with an annoyed look. “What the fuck?”

“Heed my warnings, pet. Another misstep will earn you a higher voltage. Finish up,” I growl, stepping away from him and leaning against the door as I wait for him to finish.

That was close. Fuck, why does he have to be so goddamned sexy with that hair, his scarred body, and that fucking accent.

Heat settles in my core as I breathe through what just happened. I watch as Fintan finishes his shower with nothing but defiance in his eyes. He dries off quickly, his movements calculated and deliberate.

“Get dressed,” I command, my tone unwavering as I toss him the clean clothes I brought from upstairs. “We have much to discuss during breakfast.”

Fintan’s jaw clenches as he tugs on the underwear and reaches for his clothes on the floor, still eyeing me warily. As he pulls on his jeans and shirt, I can see the tension in his muscles, ready to spring into action at any moment.

I gesture for him to sit at the table, where breakfast awaits. He takes a seat and stays silent as I cuff him to the chair and head over to Kieran so I can help him clean up too.

“Don’t test me like your friend does. Submit to me and obey,” she warns as she starts to undress me in the bathroom. I nod, not making eye contact with her and becoming increasingly more aware of the collar around my neck.

The warm water cascades down my aching body as I stand in the steady stream—my head bowed as I stare at the water swirling down the drain while she removes my cuffs.

As the cuffs clink together in her hands, she speaks in a low, steady voice. “We’re going to have a talk about some new rules over breakfast.” Her words send a shiver down my spine, and I reluctantly nod in understanding.

I wash myself with the shower gel that smells like honey, enjoying the freedom to move my arms. I feel like scrubbing my skin raw after last night, but I don’t have the energy.

Stepping out of the shower, I feel exposed and vulnerable. The steam from the hot water curls around me like ghostly fingers, heightening my sense of unease. I dry myself off mechanically, my mind racing with questions about what these new rules could possibly entail.

After getting dressed, I remain silent as I follow her to the table where Fintan sits, restrained and ravenous, the weight of the collar around my neck is a constant reminder of our forced submission.

The air between us crackles with tension, heavy with unspoken words and desires as she unchains Fintan’s wrists from the back of the chair, allowing him enough movement to eat.

The clinking of silverware against the plate fills the air, breaking the heavy silence between us as Fintan devours the food in front of him. I don’t know how he can eat. My stomach rumbles but the thought of consuming food right now has bile rising in the back of my throat.

She watches me with a calculating gaze, her full lips pressed against the cup as she sips her coffee.

I dare not speak first, waiting for her to lay down these so-called “new rules” that are already constricting my every move. Finally, she sets her cup down with a deliberate clang.

“Eat, pet,” Alex commands but this time her tone is more relaxed—friendly even.

My stomach churns just by looking at the table and I push my plate back with a very forced half-smile.

She is serving us breakfast on the fucking same table she chained Fintan to yesterday... before she made me fuck him on camera.

She shakes her head and lets out a sigh but thankfully, she lets it go. If she tried forcing me to eat right now, I’d wholeheartedly take advantage of my uncuffed wrists and squeeze the life out of her, not thinking twice about the shocks she would deliver to my throat.

She begins, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “I think it’s time we shake things up a bit.” The corner of her mouth curls into a small smile that does nothing to ease the dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

As she outlines the new boundaries and expectations she has for us, I feel the weight of each word press down on me like a physical force.

“I will be watching you every moment of every day. Rule number one, if you are good and obedient for me, you’ll get a treat.

Rule number two, unless instructed to do so, you will under no circumstances touch yourselves or each other.

Rule number three, disobey or break any of the rules and I will take away your privileges. The punishment will fit your crime.”

Fintan and I look at each other before turning back to Alex with wary gazes. “I will break you like you tried to break me,” she informs us as she pops a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth without breaking eye contact.

We look at each other again and an unspoken agreement passes between us as we nod along dutifully, knowing that resistance is futile at this point.

She will fuck up at some point, but we need her to let her guard down if we have any hopes of taking back our control and freedom.

We will need to play along with her fucked-up little games and appear broken and defeated. A weak appearance is the price I am willing to pay if it means I will get the chance to walk out of this hell.

She belongs to us. We marked her. Claimed her. Our little Dove is playing with wildfire, and I can’t wait to fucking burn her alive for what she has done to us. To me.