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Molly steps through. She’s tall, red-haired, and has the look of someone who has seen some shit and is not easily surprised. Her gaze sweeps the apartment — me on the floor, June mostly naked with a whip, the scattered clothes — and her expression doesn‘t change at all except for a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth.
“Well,” she says. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” June says brightly. “Sorry about the mess. We got started early. It got feisty.”
Molly looks at me. I look back. Through sheer force of will, I say nothing, because I have the distinct sense that saying anything right now would only make this worse.
“I came by to check on you,” Molly says, her attention returning to June. “Evan said you had an interesting conversation last night.”
“Oh, that.” June laughs. It’s a good laugh. Convincing. The laugh that says yes, I absolutely pee on people recreationally and I’m very in demand for it. “Yeah, we ran into each other at The Love Hole. I was shopping. So was he.”
“I know. I sent him out. And, well, I can see that you’ve been shopping, too.”
“I’m really getting into the scene,” June continues, warming to her role. “It’s been very liberating. Very empowering. I’m exploring my dominant side.”
“That’s great,” Molly says. “It’s healthy to explore.”
June nods enthusiastically. “Right? That‘s what I think, too. And this one—“she gestures at me with the whip, “— he’s very obedient. Very well-trained. Well, he’s getting there. Likes to fight every once in a while, and that just makes him more fun to train.”
I am going to kill her.
“Aren’t you?” June says, looking down at me with an expression that is both commanding and slightly manic. “Aren’t you a good boy?”
The silence stretches.
Both women are looking at me.
I have made a lot of poor decisions in my life. I have done things I’m not proud of. I have compromised my integrity and my safety and my basic human dignity in service of survival and ambition and greed and the simple fucking opportunity to get laid.
But this might top it all.
“Yes, Mistress June,” I say. “I’m your good boy.”
June’s face lights up as if I’ve just given her a gift. “See? So obedient.” She turns back to Molly. “Watch this. Bark like a dog.”
I close my eyes briefly.
“Bark like a dog, you filthy little bitch,” June says, her voice taking on an edge of glee.
I bark.
It’s not a good bark. It’s not convincing. It’s the bark of a man whose soul has left his body and is currently hovering somewhere near the ceiling, trying to figure out what series of choices led to this exact moment.
“Good boy,” June coos. “Now. Have you been naughty?”
“Yes, Mistress June,” I say, and I’m committing now, I’m fully in this because the alternative is worse; the alternative is Molly calling Evan and Evan showing up and then I’m dealing with a whole different kind of problem while mostly naked. That’s it. That’s all of it. “I’ve been very naughty.”
“Should I spank your naughty ass?”
“Yes, Mistress June.” The words taste like humiliation and resignation and the faint memory of dignity. “Please spank my naughty ass.”
She does. Hard enough to make the point. Hard enough that Molly can hear it, the sharp crack of the whip against skin.
And that’s when I feel it.
The deeply unwelcome stirring in my boxer briefs that suggests my body has opinions about this situation that are wildly at odds with the opinions of my brain and my feelings of self-worth.
No.
