As Will neared tentatively, Quinn thought of her husband. She had hardly thought of him so far, other than to reassure herself that he would forgive her for everything she had done here. If she could just explain how her clothes were stolen, how she was coerced into a collar, and dominated against her will - she had been sure he would consider her the victim. Now it was different, Quinn wasn't helpless, she was complicit. She wanted it. Worst of all, it was Will - her oldest friend - crossing this line into intimacy with her. It was unforgivable. The taboo of it made the moment all the more electric, Will kneeling slowly as she lifted her foot to him, trying to hold it steady despite the offensive cold. She looked up at him with fearful wanting eyes as his skin met hers, taking her in his
