Mr. Bordeaux stalls as I take in my surroundings. I’m stupefied, my thoughts spinning in a fog. He turns to face me, and his eyes narrow as he waves a perfect, soft-looking hand. “Take off your clothes.”

A bone-deep chill rushes through me, causing me to hesitate. I’m so off kilter that I don’t notice another person in the room, and the noise registers a second too late.

The cadence of a single footfall behind me.

A light rustle.

The fierce snap of leather an instant before it strikes me on the ass, issuing a sting forceful enough to send my teeth into a grind.

“Do as Mr. Bordeaux commands.” The voice at my back is deep, harsh, leaving no room for doubt that he’ll hit me again if I don’t submit.

With shaking hands I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my breasts. I’m fumbling with the clasp of my undergarment when Mr. Bordeaux orders me to move faster.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

Another snap of the whip, harder this time, and I push to my toes with a sharp cry.

“Your master didn’t give you permission to speak.”

Mr. Bordeaux shakes his head. “I’m not her master.”

“Down here we do things my way, and that means you are her master.” More footsteps sound as I struggle out of the rest of my clothing, letting it gather around my feet in a messy, abandoned pile of lost dignity. The man with the whip comes into view, and I meet a set of familiar gray eyes.

Pax, from the House of Libra, and from what I recall during the medical examination, the keeper of the dungeon. I want to cower under his scrutiny, or at the least, palm my breasts so he’ll stop molesting them with his lascivious gaze. Instead, I remain frozen with my hands dangling at my sides.

“Kneel,” Mr. Bordeaux says, drawing my attention back to him.

I follow his command and assume the pose he wants, on my haunches, head bowed, hands on my thighs, palms up.

“You’re quick to obey, but I shouldn’t have to issue the order. Unless I say otherwise, this is how I expect you to present yourself.” Three purposeful strides eat up the distance between us. “You will not move until I say otherwise, is that understood?”

A beat passes, and Pax’s whip sends a soft caress across my breasts, prompting me to stumble over my answer. “I…yes, Mr. Bordeaux.”

“You will kneel in this spot, alone and in the dark, until it becomes as natural as breathing.”