Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58412 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Bark less, little pup,” she says, her tone becoming firmer and more displeased.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Settle, pet,” Marcus murmurs.
I don’t fucking listen to him. He just let this stranger put something inside me. The indignation I feel at that realization keeps rippling through me. I can hardly believe it. It doesn’t seem real. I reach back to the place where it hurts, and I feel a little lump there.
“What the actual fuck!?” I have never experienced such a thing before, and for it to have happened so casually, and without warning—I realize I am being treated precisely the same as any animal taken to a clinic. My body is not my own. It has been marked and will be recorded, and my owner—Marcus, is the one they will look to when deciding what to do with me.
I absorb all of this information from that one little act. From now on, anybody who has one of those scanners is going to know that I ‘belong’ to him.
“You need to settle down, pup.” There is a slight remnant of indulgence in her voice, but I can tell that she’s starting to get annoyed.
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are…” Her gaze slides over to Marcus, reproachful. “You didn’t give her the slightest bit of training before she arrived, did you?”
“She will learn by experience,” Marcus says.
“You mean the hard way,” Melanie replies.
Marcus’ eyes slide over me with dark warning. “That will be up to her.”
I want to walk out of this place, but I know if I do that, I’m going to lose the chance to see some of the craziest, most fascinating stuff I’ve ever seen in my life. It is curiosity that keeps me here, even though I am brimming with outrage.
I again reach back to my neck and feel something about half the size of a grain of rice sitting beneath my skin. It’s real. This is actually fucking real. Marcus had me chipped. He stood me here and he took my sight and he asked this woman to insert the device as if I were a pet at the vet.
He did warn me that going into this club would be intense, but I am now starting to feel what it is like to be owned by a billionaire who moves in circles where laws can be suspended. I don’t have any rights whatsoever. I have just been tagged as a piece of property, and no matter how nonchalant those who did it are, it is a big fucking deal.
“I suppose there’s no point putting the blindfold on again now,” he says.
“I suppose not,” I reply.
“Would you like to go to the lounge, the training room, or a more disciplinary space?” Mistress Melanie asks the question, with an emphasis on ‘disciplinary’ that I could do without.
“I think we will start in the lounge. My pet seems a little on edge. I think she could do with a chance to relax.”
“I hope you both enjoy your evening,” she says, smiling at Marcus. The smile fades when she looks at me again. I narrow my eyes at her as Marcus leads me away, through a hall, and into a drawing room.
It is a very large space filled with a great many chaise lounges and other couch-like furniture. It is arranged in various little cloisters to create more intimate spaces for conversation and other such things.
Butlers move smoothly between the groups present, delivering drinks and other items. They all wear black three-piece suits and white gloves. I feel as though they should be wearing masks, but nobody here has their face obscured. Whatever happens here, these people feel comfortable with one another knowing, it seems. The blindfold is just so little normie pets don’t freak out when they’re being chipped, I bet.
Several people greet Marcus, mostly at a distance via little waves and head nods. Some of them wave him over, but it seems he has his own agenda, as usual.
There is a little end table, a very curious piece of furniture. It has been made to look as though a woman in a very short skirt, fishnet stockings, high heels, and not much else has been tied up so snugly she is in the form of an end table.
I stifle a little squeal as it moves slightly, just a little twitch of a toe, and I realize it is not a carved effigy of a bound woman—it is a bound woman.
“What the fuck…” I gasp to myself. I don’t want to show shock or fear, but the sight of her is truly shocking. The expression on her face is one of blissful resignation. That’s the only thing that stops me from straight up freaking out.
As I look around more, I see more. Everything here is very refined and well presented. In some cases, I cannot tell who is the controlling partner in a couple. Some of them look almost normal, until you spot a collar, or an ankle cuff, or perhaps a tattoo.