The hostess walks to the third door on the left, knocks, and pushes it open. “Madam Grace,” she says quietly. “Your appointment.”
Then she steps aside, letting me walk in.
The door clicks shut behind me, and for a second I forget how to breathe.She’s here.The blonde from the entrance. Same black mask, same red lips, same quiet confidence that makes the air feel heavy. Her hair’s still twisted up, a few loose strands brushing her neck, and she’s standing in front of a wall of soft light that makes her look untouchable. The lavender token glints against her collar; that small detail hits me square in the chest.
She’s standing in the center of the room like she owns the ground beneath her heels. Black leather shorts, a lace corset that hugs her curves. Every movement she makes is slow, like she knows I’m watching and wants me to. When her eyes lock on mine, my stomach drops. There’s something sharp in her gaze, something that tells me she’s not here to play nice. She doesn’t need to raise her voice to have control. She already has it.
“Hello, Talon.” My name sounds different coming from her mouth; lower, smoother, a little dangerous. “Did you read and sign the consent agreement?”
The question’s simple, but her tone isn’t. It’s calm, but there’s weight behind it, a quiet warning that this isn’t small talk. It’s the start of whatever she’s about to do to me.
“Yes,” I manage, though my voice comes out lower than I mean for it to. My throat feels tight, and I’m not sure if it’s nerves or the way she’s looking at me.
“You understand the color system?”
I nod once, forcing myself to focus. “Yes.” I read the damn forms twice, but hearing her say it makes the whole thing feel different.
“Color?”
“Green.” The word catches in my throat. It’s supposed to meango, but it feels more likeI’m yours.
She holds my stare for a second, then turns slightly toward the door. “Thank you, Selma.”
The hostess dips her head and slips out, closing the door quietly behind her.
And just like that, it’s only us.
The silence stretches, and I’m standing there trying not to fidget, trying not to show how much I want to drop my gaze when she steps closer.
“Do you know what you want tonight?” she asks finally, her voice steady.
I swallow hard. “To stop holding everything together.”
She smiles as if that’s the answer she expected. “Then give me your control, and I’ll decide what you get to keep.”
My pulse jumps. “Yes.”
“Good boy.”
The words shouldn’t hit as hard as they do, but they sink right under my skin.
She walks up to me, close enough that I can smell her perfume again. “Take off your shirt. Pants too. Undies only.”
I obey. The air feels cooler against my skin, and she studies me like she’s deciding where to start. Her eyes flick to the cross mounted on the far wall. “There. Go stand.”
“Take a breath.” She circles behind me, her tone quiet but commanding. “Good. Now another.”
I do it without thinking, and the obedience alone makes my pulse skip.
“Hands behind your back.”
I obey, fingers lacing automatically. She drags a nail up the inside of my wrist, and I flinch. Not from pain. From surprise. The corner of her mouth lifts.
“Eager,” she murmurs. “That’s good.”
Her fingertips trail across my shoulders, down my chest, stopping just above my waistband. Each touch is careful and deliberate, teasing enough to make my thoughts scatter. When I lean toward her, she clicks her tongue once, a quiet scold that sends heat rushing straight to my face.
“Did I tell you to move?”
