“Ran away?” Dylan asks. His round eyes match Gwen’s and Bree’s.
“We brought her back. Use her if you want. I’ve no interest in one so irresponsible.”
I can’t bear to look at any of them. Gwen starts to reach out to me but is stopped by a slight shake of her husband’s head.
Mr. Rose leads the way inside. Bree is last, her glare acidic.
I’m left outside while the party gets in to full swing. The steel rod against my crotch matches the cold, unforgiving nature of my exile. The steel bars at my ankles and back offer no give at all. I’m locked into my penance.
The party picks up in intensity; the cracking of whips, the beguiling slave screams all harken to me, make me ache to join them. I’m not meant for them anymore. Not unless someone dares to come out and deliver me from my exile.
My h
