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Swallowing hard, I’d seen the contraption at The Station. I knew what it was used for — restraining.

The loud thud of Trixie’s head hitting the floor made me jump.

Nash smirked as she leaned her mallet against the wall, her voice still muffled through her mask. “It’s a St. Andrew’s cross.”

“Right.” I nodded.

The old speakeasy was the nicest place in Feverpoint, except for the loft. Intact, the whole place looked like it was frozen in time, still as clean as the day the park was shut down.

But as I looked around, I saw that Nash had made the space her own.

Mounted along the Damask wallpaper were long wood racks with toys dangling from pegs. Some of them were familiar to me now — the floggers and crops. But among them were wood paddles, a leather hammer, and gags.

And then there was the rack on the opposite wall, with toys so bizarre I had no idea what they could be.

Stepping closer, Nash’s voice was a low growl in my ears. “Take off your clothes and get on your knees.”

My heart pounded in my chest at her command.

But as I mustered the courage, I pulled off the black veil of the slutty nun costume, chucking it to the door. Then came the collar, tossing it in the same pile.

When I hesitated, unsure if I could undo the tight corseted bodysuit, Nash ran her hands along my bare shoulders. Her calloused fingers tickled my skin, making goosebumps rise from the flesh.

Then her skilled hands undid the clasps of the bustier. “Off.”

Nodding, I slipped the faux leather off my body. Completely exposed, I felt a cool chill on my tits as I stood. Covering them with my hand, I looked over my shoulder at Nash.

“On your knees, Sweet Lamb.”

I dropped down, letting my bare knees slam into the herringbone wood floors.

“Good girl.” Nash growled as she walked around me. When she was in front of me, she pulled the porcelain mask off of her face. Rolling her shoulders back, her jaw tensed. “You will refer to me as Master.”

Swallowing hard, I let the words slip from my lips. “Yes, Master.”

Tilting her chin up, Nash smirked. “There will be no safe words tonight.”

I’d already given my consent at the start of Fright Night. These were the rules. Once I was caught, I was theirs until the sun rose over Feverpoint.

I’d lost. And now I was Nash’s toy to play with.

A rush of excitement ran through my body.

“Yes, Master.” I clasped my hands over my center as I looked up into her gray eyes.

Moving back behind me, Nash ran her fingers through my hair. “Keep your head forward.”

My body was on fire from her touch as she separated my hair into three equal sections, turning the blonde strands into one short braid. I wasn’t sure how she managed to tie off the braid, no hair ties in sight.

But I wasn’t here to question her.

When she was finished, Nash lifted my body at my waist.

I rushed to get my feet under me as she guided me toward the St. Andrew’s cross. Standing in front of it, Nash gripped my hips and spun me to face her.

With firm hands, she pushed my shoulder back into the cross. “Stay.”

The light padding of the cross didn’t stop me from wincing as my body slammed into the large X. “Yes, Master.” I held still as I watched Nash move to a closet in the corner. As she peeled open the doors, I couldn’t see what was inside.