It’s fucking beautiful.
I can’t wait for the realization to hit her.
A thrill runs down my spine as she’s guided to the bed. Four of them line the room, spaced evenly apart, each bolted with worn leather restraints, stiff from use. Heavy chains coil from the headboards to steel collars, waiting to wrap around soft throats.
If they jerk forward, try to rise; they choke.
It’s that simple.
Surrender or suffocate.
Once the guards finish strapping them down, it’s my turn to stir the pot.
I clear my throat, press the speaker button, and let my voice slide across the room like silk pulled tight over a blade.
“Welcome to Room Three, ladies. It’s called the Cream Room. Not because of the bland-ass walls, though.”
Ebony’s right leg twitches. She’s trying not to squirm, squeezing her thighs like they’re the only things holding her together.
“This room may actually give you a little… relief.”
Tara, the one with the absurdly large dildo, grins.
She has no idea.
No fucking clue what’s at stake here.
But my girl does.
She’s still. Focused. Ready.
That’s why she’s behaving so goddamn well.
Because she understands the cost of failure.
And whether she knows it or not, she’s already mine.
“I’ll put you out of your misery,” I continue, eyes locked on the screen. “The game is simple. You’re going to make it rain for me. Using your toy, your fingers…whatever you need. The only way into the next room is by setting your mind free.”
Ebony stiffens like I’ve cracked her spine with those words.
Then she turns her head, avoiding the camera.
My jaw ticks.
No.
I want her eyes.
I want her defiance, her arousal, her fear—all of it.
Her eyes tell me what she won’t say.
“And by rain,” I drawl, slow and sharp, “I mean you have to make yourself squirt for your Master. You should be thanking me—for allowing you to come as many times as it takes. The first three women to complete the task move on.”
The guards step back, placing themselves behind the girls’ heads.
They’ll need the illusion of privacy to surrender fully.