I swallow, the sound loud in the quiet car. My throat is sandpaper. My whole body is trembling now, a fine, uncontrollable shiver that starts deep in my core. Wrath. The word echoes, conjuring images of ancient gods striking down mortals for their impudence. This is not a game. This is my life.
He doesn’t wait for a response. My understanding is clearly written on my pale, terrified face. He releases my hand and pushes his door open. The outside world rushes in, the sounds of birdsong and the faint rustle of leaves a cruel parody of normality.
He comes around to my side and opens my door. I don’t move. I am paralyzed, rooted to the leather seat by pure dread.
“Pet,” he says, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
Somehow, my body obeys. I swing my legs out, my feet meeting the smooth, sun-warmed marble of the steps. The ground feels unsteady. He places a hand on the small of my back, a gesture that might look protective or intimate to an observer, but I feel it for what it is; a steer, a guide, the touch of my jailer.
He leads me forward. Each step up the marble staircase is an effort. The mansion looms above, its countless windows like dark, judging eyes. I feel them on me, the unseen watchers Antonio warned me about.
I feel exposed, dissected.
My breath comes in short, shallow gasps.
I keep my eyes fixed on the immense doors which are now swinging inward, revealing a cavernous, shadowy foyer.
As we cross the threshold, the temperature drops significantly. The air is cool and smells of polish and old money. The doors swing shut behind us with a heavy thud that resonates through the vast space like a tomb sealing.
And just like that, the outside world is gone. I am inside a new cage, and I know our Grand Master is already watching, waiting for me to fuck up.
The first few days are okay. I just hide and try to acclimatise, and everything feels so normal that I could almost convince myself that I can do this. I can survive this.
And then today happens. Antonio has me done up, dressed up, prepped in a way that can only mean one thing.
I grit my teeth and try not to breathe too much as the car glides to a halt before an unmarked, black steel door nestled in a shadowy alcove of a street so exclusive it feels more like a film set than a real place.
The sheer blush chiffon of my dress feels like a whisper against my skin, a ghost of a garment that conceals nothing. I know the dark peaks of my nipples are visible through the delicate fabric, and the scrap of lace between my legs is my only secret.
Antonio’s hand is a heated weight on the small of my back, pushing me forward, ensuring I don’t stop.
He is utterly at ease, his sharp tuxedo a second skin of power and control, his gaze already holding the authority of this place. I, on the other hand, feel like I might shatter into a million glittering pieces.
Before we left for this place Antonio did something, changed something. He switched out the piercing on my clit. It’s heavier now, and it presses against me in a way that I cannot ignore for even a second. I don’t know what this new piercing looks like, but I have a good idea of what it will do, and the knowledge already has me spiralling.
As we walk inside, I see the words ‘Black Orchid’ emblazoned in a white glow. I know that’s the name of this place, that Antonio has brought me to a sex club. I feel sick. Sick and disgusted because whatever happens tonight, whatever part I am made to play? I know there will be witnesses, faces, people who will remember this, remembermelike this.
A woman steps forward and takes our names before ushering us through. Clearly Antonio is on some VIP list, because we walk past the main hall and down into what feels like an underground temple dedicated entirely to sin and debauchery.
Antonio turns to face me as we pause on the entrance, his expression uncharacteristically serious. The playful glint in his eyes is replaced by a stark intensity that makes my breath catch. “Tonight, you must be perfect. Tonight, you must behave exactly as I wish.”
I grit my teeth, half-glaring in spite of myself.
He grabs my jaw, and his fingers dig in just enough to hurt. “You are my pet, remember? We may not be in my home, but I can and I will punish you severely if you forget that fact…” A vision of that room, of that man, of the cattle prod and what he did with it slams into me and the adrenaline that hits my stomach makes me feel like I might puke.
“I…” I stammer, but his thumb silences whatever I want to say.
“I don’t want you to talk, I want you to listen. You will do what I say, you will let me show you off in any way I choose and if you’re good, I will give you a reward. But if you disobey, then there will be consequences. The choice is yours. The sweet or the sour.”
A reward? Whatever thing he is offering me is not worth the cost of my soul.
He takes something out of his pocket, wrapping it around my throat and fixing it tight enough that it pushes into my oesophagus. “This is a shock collar.” He says quietly. “I will use it if it is necessary, but I’d prefer you to behave.”
Behave or be shocked. Behave and allow him to make me his whore in front of the entire world. What choice is that?
“Problem, Antonio?” A man says, and I jump at the sound of his voice.
Antonio turns, all smiles and holds out his hand to shake this stranger’s.
