“No sound,” Karen ordered as she finished. “No talk, no moan, no pant.” The Mouth said nothing, only opened and closed his knife once more.

Then Karen yanked on the chain between the nipple clips, and something between a pant and a grunt escaped from my mouth, despite the gag. I waited for a whip, a slap, a blow.

Instead, Karen sat down deliberately and pulled the manicure table to the side. She grabbed a bottle of bright red polish, leaned into me, and painted the pinkie finger of my left hand. She smelled like heaven. Her jazzy perfume was breaking down, mixing with her sweat. I wanted to lick it off, even though I’d never touched another woman. She rose from her chair and perched on my left leg to finish the job, careful not to touch me anywhere else. This was my punishment—that she would sit right next to me, right on me, but draw no nearer. I tried to look on the bright side; I thought, this might not be so bad. Stripped naked by a dangerous man. Painted like a whore by a beautiful woman. I could be a silent, good little girl through that.

Then Karen nodded to Mouth, who had donned a pair of black rubber gloves when I wasn’t looking. His smell had changed. He, too, was sweating, and his erection was obvious. I tried not to think ahead, tried not to wonder whether I’d get to see any more of his body. Then he walked directly behind me and tied a blindfold around my eyes. The sour-sweet odor of the polish rose in the air.

Blind and mute, I felt as if I could smell everything in the room, like my skin had doubled in size. Karen was on the “fuck you” finger, stroking my palm with one hand while decorating it with the other.

I would be her good girl. I could be quiet. Then I felt a rubbery hand stroke my mound, as Karen continued stroking my palm. Mouth went to work below, while Karen worked on my hands. What a bitch she was, I thought. That woman had been right.

I writhed in the chair, but I kept quiet. I ground my ass into the sticky, cheap plastic of the chair, trying not to come, trying to avoid his hand, ever advancing…. I yanked at my wrist restraints. I was only trying to do what Karen demanded: to absorb the pleasure without a sound. Then someone slapped me hard on the face. It was Karen, I guess; the slap was scented with perfume and lotion.

Karen hissed, “Ruin this nail job, bitch, and you’ll never leave this place.”

“Let’s teach her something,” said Mouth. His voice was smoky and dark, too. My outer lips ballooned at the sound. Everything was making me hot. How could I possibly do what Karen wished? But I wanted to. I knew I wanted to.