Chapter Seventeen
The sweet smell of baked goods met Ward at the kitchen door. Gina stood at the steel table with her back to the door, transferring tea cookies from a metal baking sheet to a cooling rack sitting in the table’s centre next to a silver and porcelain tea service.
Ward was pleased to note that her black rope dress still looked fresh and the carved handle of a mahogany butt plug remained firmly in its place. His meticulous butler had made certain Ward’s intricate rope work was protected with a sheer, frilly French maid’s apron. The crisply bowed ties draped onto Gina’s pale round cheeks over long red stripes, the broadest purpling into a revolting, oozing bruise.
Gina began to turn, but he stopped her. “Finish your task. We still have many preparations before our special gu
