Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Sitting on the floor are ten women. One pet for each man outside.
There are several kitties, puppies, another bunny, and even a unicorn. Each of them are collared and tailed just as I am, and some even have wrist and ankle restraints with far more chains attached. I suppose I’m lucky to only have my leash as the only heavy metal chain. Their eyes are wide and curious as they examine me quietly as the man pushes me the rest of the way in, presses me on my shoulders until I kneel on the ground, then silently closes the door and leaves to join the male guests in the other room.
Being on all fours, I’m not sure what to do. Should I crawl closer to where they all sit? Should I say something? Each woman is naked, vulnerable; but they don’t seem frightened or upset to be in the situation they are in. And I’m once again relieved I don’t recognize any of the women, which means they may not know who I am.
“We have a new pet tonight,” one woman—with a kitten tail—says with a smile. Her lips are red, her makeup dark, and her hair is up in two ponytails to appear more catlike.
“Pretty,” another woman who has bunny ears besides her collar and tail says. Her voice is soft and seductive.
I remain still. Silent.
“Why are you acting like you just saw a ghost?” the red-lipped woman asks. “We don’t bite.”
The women in the room giggle, and I easily see that everyone is… comfortable.
“What’s your name?” she asks, cutting off the laughter.
They don’t recognize me…yet. I consider giving a fake name but trying to keep my true identity is going to be impossible once we join the men. Apollo Godwin and his family own Heathens Hollow. Even if the women don’t recognize me, they will soon recognize him.
“Daphne,” I answer as I reposition myself to sit on my thigh. The large tail makes it impossible to fully sit on my butt, so I have no choice but to find a position that seems to enhance my sensuality when, in fact, that is the last thing I am meaning to do.
“Daphne Godwin? Apollo’s wife?”
I nod and swallow the lump that forms in the back of my throat.
“We are sitting with royalty,” a girl, who leans against a wall, says. She is dressed in a black puppy tail and has a black leather mask covering her face. Her costume is far more extensive and involves leather jewelry with a thicker collar than others. “Godwins rarely attend The Vault.” Her eyes glance at my tail. “He even gave you a white tail and a diamond collar. Very… Godwin-like.”
I struggle to process the women before me. It’s clear they are all here by choice. Every single one of them, and they assume I am as well. And for some bizarre reason, I don’t want to let on that my husband has taken me to Heathens Hollow, and everything about this situation is forced. It’s like I’m in a high school locker room trying to fit in with the cool cheerleaders or something. I also have been so groomed to protect the Godwin name at all cost, that I don’t want to mar Apollo’s reputation at all. Ironic, since trying to destroy him is what landed me in this situation.
Regardless, I remain silent.
It isn’t like they can help me anyway if I told them the truth. They won’t cross a Godwin and help me escape. Not if they value the land they live on. They only lease the land. Not own. A Godwin can evict without cause, and most certainly will if given a reason. If anything, they may make the situation worse if they told their men about me and then the men told Apollo. I don’t think Apollo would appreciate a scene at The Vault.
Awkward silence is soon replaced by the women going about whatever conversations they were having before I entered the room. I’ve never been one to really like cocktail parties or social gatherings. But I married into that life, however, so I have attended countless numbers of boring, pointless nights. I’m not good at small talk just for the sake of it. I’m not good at laying on the charm to complete strangers.
But at least at those parties, I had a fucking dress on.
Here I sit. With a tail in my ass that’s growing more uncomfortable by the minute and a collar that still feels humiliating regardless if it’s made of diamonds. And the other women just sit around in their own tails and collars, but they don’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. This is ordinary for them. They all smile and chat on as if they are at their very own cocktail party…minus the dresses and pretentious designer purses and heels.