His pupils dilated, and he did as he was told. She moved off the bed, giving Kaydon and Seth a small pet on the head as she walked by. Grabbing a few things from her closet, she went behind Bryson.
“Hands behind your back.”
Adria made quick work of tying Bryson’s wrists together with some rough hemp rope, and then she secured them to his ankles. Enjoying the sight of his body being forced to bow unnaturally. Adria dropped a belt and a crop down next to him, and he flinched at the sound. She watched his breathing increase.
Adria had grown up surrounded by men.
Their eyes always on her, watching, weighing, waiting. Men who claimed to know what was best, who insisted she follow in their footsteps. Men who cast long shadows, ones she was expected to walk within. Obedience was their lesson. Invisibility, the goal.
And then there were these three.
It was hard to admit but their presence had provided a flicker of hope in her dimly lit world. Adria wanted to believe that they were different. That they saw her as more than just a pawn in their game.
Sometimes she felt like they were more than just a pawn in hers as well.
But after this ridiculous declaration, after they brokeinto her room and forced their trust on her, she realized they didn’t want to share her heart; they wanted to repay their debt.
Adria didn’t rise from that freezing black pool to be beholden to anyone. That night, dripping and bloodied, she had climbed from the cavern’s water and met every watching eye with fire in her own. She didn’t just survive.
She dared them to see her.
And she would do the same now.
Bending low, she leaned into Bryson’s ear, her voice like silk over steel. “The thing about masochists,” she murmured, “is punishments get complicated. Because if I spend the next half hour belting your ass raw... would that be pain or pleasure, hmm?”
She gave his hair a sharp pull, yanking his head back to bare his throat.
He hissed, but gave no answer.
Good.
She stepped in front of him, her expression unreadable, then slowly, deliberately, began unbuttoning her blouse. One by one, each item slipped free. The fabric fell away, followed by her skirt.
Until she stood before him—bare, save for boots and stockings—her cunt inches from his mouth.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just owned the space.
And then she sat, wide-legged on the bed, her body a throne.
Men thought they could control her. That she was a prize to win or a storm to weather. But what they never understood, what Bryson and his brothers were just starting to learn, was that she always had their number. Every move. Every tell. Every twitch of desire.
She could destroy them if she wanted.
And they’d thank her for it.
If they thought they could come in here and tell her what to do, they were sorely mistaken.
“Kaydon, Seth, would you take my boots off?”
The two jumped as if she had struck them. Tumbling over each other. Bryson was shouldered out of the way while the pair went to work.
Adria laid back and felt their fingers undoing each lace. Seth was meticulous, and Kaydon was deft but clunky. Adria didn’t see any harm in teaching them a lesson before the auction tomorrow. She had an itch she had wanted to scratch since their arrival.
Two birds with one stone.
“Kaydon, Seth, show your Mistress how happy you are to be in her presence,” she said, sinking back into the bed.
Kaydon was the first to move, gliding up from her feet, his fingertips whispering up her thigh. Every touch leaving a trail of heat. Every puff of his breath stoked the fire simmering just beneath her skin.
