The collar felt heavier tonight.
Celeste stood in the center of the glass performance chamber, her body bare, skin glossed, freshly marked. Her wrists had already been bound behind her back, elbows touching, rope biting into the delicate curve of her arms. Her legs were spread by a silver bar that kept her stance wide, exposed, vulnerable.
A ball gag hung loosely between her lips, not yet fastened.
And behind her, Mistress paced in heels so sharp they clicked like threats.
Beyond the two-way glass, the Playground’s most elite members were gathering.
They took their seats in silence. Sipped from crystal glasses. Crossed their legs. They had seen many things on this stage—ruin, rebirth, degradation—but tonight, the spectacle had a different tension.
Because Damian was there.
And he wa
