“Yes, Sir.”
She set her phone down with shaking fingers. It was done. No more safety net. She didn’t know if she felt fear or relief, but she now understood she’d been testing Boone. She knew better than to mouth off to Kenny or Silas, but she hadn’t been sure about her giant protector.
She was damned certain now, and she knew this was home. There was no longer a need to keep one foot in her old life.
Still, change was fucking scary, but no turning back now.
* * * *
Three days later, her apartment was empty.
It had taken less than forty-eight hours to box up everything she wanted to keep. The rest, the bikers had picked up to take to their shelter for women and kids.
No regrets. Just quiet gratitude that it was going somewhere useful.
The whole thing had been terrifyingly easy.
Her men had shown up like a damned military operation. Boone and Kenny took charge of the bigger pieces. Silas packed up the kitchen with surgical precision, muttering under his breath when he found her good pots and pans mixed in with cheap department store nonsense. “You could start a restaurant with this sauté pan, why the fuck do you have this piece of shit in a one-inch bigger size?”
She just laughed, feeling light and unburdened for the first time in years.
They talked while they worked, and she learned more things about her men, like Silas coming to terms with his sadism when he dated a werewolf who came back from thechangelooking, in his words, “Like fucking Sasquatch.” Her legs, toes and the tops of her feet, pussy, pits, mustache, little sparse hairs on her face and throat.
He’d bought a kit and learned how to wax her, to save her the embarrassment of a spa. It was a monthly routine, the day after every full moon, and he’dlovedhurting her, and eventually humiliating her. He’d learned how to rip hair out in the most painful way possible, and his cock had gone rock hard at her tears. He’d shrugged and said, “And that’s how I learned a woman’s tears get my dick hard. Humiliation and pain. Best aphrodisiac on the planet.”
And while he told the story, Willow’s empty pussy clenched. When she had her brows shaped, she always chose threading because waxing felt like it ripped skin off with the hair. But tied down, spread open, and having her pussy lips waxed while she cried?Fuck. The thought made her stomach drop and her cunt ache in the same breath. Shame tangled with arousal, hot and dark, impossible to separate.
They’d asked her biggest fantasy, and she’d told them. “It can’t happen, Sir. It’s from a book, this guy who gets taken to an alien planet where everyone’s bigger than him, and a great big, really strong guy with a monster dick buys him. He’s caged when not used, walked in the yard to pee, eats from a pet dish on the floor. He’s part pet and part sex slave. They do something to his voice box so he can’t vocalize — can’t scream, moan, whine, can’t even hum. While he’s knocked out for that, they also cut the tendons on his thumbs so he can’t use them. He doesn’t understand their speech, but his owner teaches him hand signals for simple commands, to go to his cage, to bend over something.There’s no need for a sign to tell him he’s been bad because punishments are swift and brutal.”
“How many of these kinds of fantasies do you have?” Kenny asked.
“I don’t know, Sir, maybe four or five. I’d have to think about it.” She grinned. “One of them was the three-dicks-at-a-time thing, and that one’s no longer a fantasy.”
“Anything you’ve learned about yourself or your kinks since coming to us?” Kenny asked. “Something you didn’t know before?”
She remembered being alone in the cold shower, crying while forced to give herself an enema, and Silas said. “Oh, that scent is a definite yes. Do tell, our three-holed little tongue whore who’s been keeping secrets.”
“It isn’t a secret, Sir, it’s… I guess it never registered I should tell you.” Plus, they hadn’t been in a good place at the time, the relationship on shaky ground because she’d lied.
“Out with it,” Kenny said.
“The cold showers when I was being punished, Sir, and having to give myself a cold enema every morning. I don’t know if ya’ll realize exactly how painful a cold enema is, but I realized on that first morning that I need my tormenter there to witness my pain. Having to hurt so bad all by myself, no one to witness my tears was in the top five worst things I’ve had to endure since I first stepped foot in this house.”
Kenny stood and walked to her, pulled her into his arms, and just held her. “I knew it would be bad, but without knowing…” He rubbed her back. “You have to tell me these things. I can’t responsibly decide how to hurt you and train you when there are blind spots. I realize you not telling me during that time is probably…” He kissed the top of her head. “It was a bad time that I’m glad we’ve put behind us. Going forward, I’ll expect you to tell me of any realization within six hours.”
“Yes, Sir.” Maybe she was being emotional, boxing her former life up to move it into her new one, but his words pushed her role into more than obedience. It made her even more accountable. His word was her law, but he needed to know where she was before he could make informed decisions. She met his gaze and said it again. “Yes, Sir. I will.”
He kissed her nose, met her gaze. “I know you will. I also want a written accounting of your top fantasies, realistic or not. Three days, on my home-office desk when I walk in the door from work that evening.”
The three of them made trip after trip, their trucks and her SUV loaded and unloaded without complaint, her life migrating one box at a time into Kenny’s house. Every carton they carried out the door felt like acceptance, and every item left behind was a tiny farewell to the woman she’d been — shedding the skin of the person who thought she could settle for vanilla just because there was a ritual. A schedule.
Each trip blurred the line, her old life shrinking, Kenny’s house swelling with her things, her presence. By the end, it wasn’t his house anymore, it was theirs.
Kenny said a wolfpack kitchen can never have too many dishes, and hers would go into his cabinets, and she focused on the wolfpack part. She wasn’t just moving in permanently with the men, but on the pack’s sacred ground. Their sanctuary. And they were inviting her into it. Making her part of it, two big events on the same day, folding her officially into something ancient and wild.
Somehow, Kenny knew which coffee mugs were her favorite, packed them himself, and lined them up over the coffee station in his kitchen like they’d always belonged there — and damned if her chest didn’t go tight. It hit almost the same as when he’d locked the collar around her throat, claiming her in ceramic and acceptance, folding her into the family in a way she hadn’trealized she needed, more declaration of ownership than even the circle of steel and the hex tool to unlock it on his keychain.
Silas merged her spices in with his and brought seven of her pots and pans to go into the highly organized pan cabinet.
