“If you want to get off, you need our permission,” Manson said, smiling as if he knew how frustrating that would be for me. “No touching yourself, no using toys, and no allowing anyone else to get you off either, unless one of us explicitly says you can.”

I grit my teeth. There was no way they could enforce that. They couldn’t watch me twenty-four hours a day. But I would know if I disobeyed, and the thought of blatantly defying them wasn’t very appealing even if they would never know I did.

“Jessica.” Manson’s firm tone snapped me out of my thoughts. “Do you understand the rule?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes, I understand.”

“That leads us to rule number two,” he said. “And that’s how you address us. In this house, when you answer, you say yes, sir and no, sir. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” I said, then caught myself and quickly added, “Yes, sir.”

Goddamn it, my pride was taking a beating. I was struggling against it, trying to keep my head high and humble myself at the same time. Maybe this was going to be harder than I thought. I’d never done well with rules — pretending to follow them was far easier than actually doing it.

But I couldn’t pretend here. I couldn’t fake obedience to them.

“And the final rule…” Manson’s fingers tapped on the back of his chair. “You will always communicate with us openly, honestly, and respectfully. Regardless of what it is. If we tell you to do something and you don’t think you can, tell us. If something frightens you or hurts you, say something. If you don’t want to continue…”

“Say something,” I repeated. “No ghosting.” They all nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

I had no idea if I actually could. How could I be completely honest if I wasn’t sure of my own truth?

Lucas was looking at me strangely, and I wondered if the uncertainty was obvious on my face. I tried to keep my expression neutral.

“All right then. Get the questionnaire filled out,” Manson said. “Then we’ll be in touch.”

He made it sound like this was a shady deal we’d agreed to in a dark alley, instead of in broad daylight sitting in their kitchen. My hands were shaking as I shoved my phone into my pocket.

“What happens after my car is fixed?” I said. “What then?”

“You go back to pretending we don’t exist,” Vincent said, staring up at the ceiling almost wistfully. Then, with a dismissive shrug, he added, “Or keep playing.”