"I punish her," Todd supplied helpfully, smoothing a hand over the top of Viv's head. "Which she loves."
"I do," Vivian agreed without a shred of shame. "It gives me purpose. Structure. I know exactly what's expected of me, and I know exactly what happens if I fail." She sighed contentedly. "It's perfect."
I stared at her, trying to reconcile this gorgeous, confident woman with the image of a kept housewife scrubbing floors.
"That wasn't what you wanted?" I asked Damien, voice low.
"No." His hand pressed firmly against my back.
The single word carried weight. Certainty. Conviction. No explanation needed. No justification offered.
I turned back to Vivian, hesitating for a moment before the words slipped out.
"I'm new to all of this," I admitted. "Like... very new."
The confession left me exposed.
But Vivian's expression didn't shift to judgment or condescension. Instead, her smile warmed.
"We all were at some point, honey." She waved a dismissive hand. "It's quite a learning curve. But you'll get there."
Todd glanced between me and Vivian, a question moving behind his eyes.
"Why don't you two talk for a bit?" he suggested. "Submissive to submissive." He clapped a hand on Damien's shoulder. "This one and I have some catching up to do anyway. It's been too long."
Damien's gaze found mine, a silent question in it.Is this okay?
I hesitated. The thought of being left alone with Vivian unsettled me.
But beneath that, curiosity stirred. The same curiosity that had driven me through the velvet curtains, past the play room, into this strange and beautiful world.
She understood things I was only beginning to grasp. She'd walked this path years before me. And Damien had brought me here hoping I'd find exactly this—someone to talk to. Someone who got it.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
Damien leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'll be in the lounge if you need me," he murmured against my hair.
Then he was gone, following Todd back through the heavy curtain.
Vivian watched them go, then turned to me with a conspiratorial smile.
"Come on." She looped her arm through mine like we were old friends. "Let's get you a cup of tea and have a proper chat."
Vivian led me back through the velvet curtains, past the lounge with its pink corner and tangled couples, until we reached the snack room. The birthday cake had been cut into—a large slice missing from Derek's name—and someone had refilled the brownie container.
"Tea?" Vivian asked, already reaching for the dispenser.
"Please. Green tea with lemon, if they have it."
"They have everything." She plucked a mug from the stack and set about preparing it with practiced efficiency. A tea bag from a labeled jar. Hot water from a second dispenser. A slice of lemon from a small refrigerated tray I hadn't noticed before.
When she turned back to me, she held the mug with both hands, extending it toward me with a small dip of her head. A slow graceful gesture.
I took the cup, brow furrowing.
When Vivian finally looked up, she blinked, then laughed—bright and genuine. "Sorry. Habit." She waved a hand dismissively, grabbing her own mug and filling it with something that smelled like chamomile. "Todd likes me to serve him a certain way. Both hands, eyes down, the whole routine." She shrugged. "After three years, it's just... automatic. Giving, receiving—doesn't matter. My hands do it before my brain catches up."
"Even with strangers?"
