RULE #2: ASK NICELY
"I need to leave." My voice cracked. "Please. I made a mistake. I didn't understand—"
"You understood perfectly, Miss West. You simply didn't believe it would happen."A pause, then:"Would you like some water? You must be thirsty."
I was. Desperately. But asking felt like giving in, and I'd already given too much.
"Stubbornness is expected in the early stages. Take your time, little one. Daddy is very patient."
Daddy. The word made my skin crawl even as something else, something I didn't want to examine, stirred underneath the revulsion.
I pulled myself up, exploring my prison with growing desperation. The bed dominated one side—king-sized, covered in soft pink sheets and white lace pillows. A vanity with a heart-shaped mirror. A closet I couldn't open. What looked like a bathroom door, also locked. No windows. No visible cameras, though I knew they were there. The air smelled like vanilla and baby powder.
"Your belongings have been catalogued and stored. You'll have access to them upon successful completion of the program."
"What program?" I tried the closet door again, pulling until my hands hurt. "What do you want from me?"
"Compliance. Growth. Transformation."The voice sounded almost fond."You signed up to be studied, Miss West. To have your behaviors modified, your responses conditioned. We take our research very seriously here."
"This isn't research, it's imprisonment!"
"Inside voice, little one. That's your first warning."
A warning. Christ. I laughed, high and slightly hysterical. "Or what? You'll spank me?"
Silence. Somehow that was worse than threats.
I don't know how long I spent searching that room. Hours, maybe. Looking for weak spots, hidden panels, anything. The collar was seamless, no visible latch or lock. The walls were solid. The locked doors might as well have been welded shut.
"Would you like some water now?"
My throat burned. My head pounded. But asking meant acknowledging this was real, that I was really here, that I'd really fucked up this monumentally.
"No."
"Very well. Daddy will check on you soon."
The lights dimmed slightly, leaving me in a twilight pink glow. I curled up on the floor—I wasn't getting in that bed, wasn't playing along—and tried to think. There had to be a way out. A loophole. Something I'd missed.
But I'd missed everything important, hadn't I? Too busy being clever to be smart. Too focused on the money to see the cage.
Time passed strangely in that pink room. No clocks. No windows to track the sun. Just the soft lighting that never quite went dark and the gentle hum of air circulation. My throat got drier. My stomach, emptier. The collar, heavier.
"It's been six hours, little one. Stubbornness becomes self-harm after a certain point."
Six hours. It felt like minutes. Like days.
"Water," I croaked, hating myself for breaking. "Can I have some water?"
"What's the magic word?"
I closed my eyes. Counted to ten. "Please."
"Good girl."
A soft chime, and a panel I hadn't noticed slid open in the wall. Inside, a single bottle of water. Not even a glass one I could break and use as a weapon. Plastic. Room temperature.
I drained it in seconds.
