Rae stood in the center of the dungeon, waiting for Wulf.
Play Room Two was another Spanish Inquisition-style dark dungeon, packed with undulating furniture and flickering fake candles. Lavender air freshener overlaid the sharp odor of leather cleaner.
He had taken her shoes when he left her there, and the rough tile chilled her toes. The equipment loomed over her. The Inquisition had locked people in cells with the instruments of their impending torture so they could think about what was going to happen to them in specific terms.
She didn’t know enough to imagine specifically. He might tie her standing to the upright rack or down to the iron rings on the floor.
The leather straps, the canes, and the cobra-like whips stood ready. One of those kinds of whips had left those welts on Glenda’s back. She must have been tied to bars or frames or furniture like these while someone whipped her.
Rae waited for a few more minutes, wishing that she had her phone to pass the time, but Wulf had taken that, too.
The door opened, and Wulf stepped in. He had removed his suit jacket and tie and rolled his white shirt sleeves up past his elbows, suggesting he was ready to work hard. Cords of muscle wrapped Wulf’s forearms. Even the little vee of his open shirt collar revealed swells of muscle rounding downward.
He hadn’t taken off his jacket or shirt last night. She hadn’t seen his arms, or his torso, or his legs. His body was still a mystery to her, but it was anything like his lower arms, he was probably ripped.
None of her few previous guys had been ripped. She kind of wanted to see if his muscles rippled under his shirt, just to see.
He gestured to the ceiling, where Rae noticed a black, shiny globe hanging amid the rough tiles, and then sliced the air with his hand, indicating something to be cut. Had he turned off the videocam feed that was supposed to keep her safe?
Wulf walked over to her, then around her, looking over her body. At first, she watched him, but he said, “Don’t move.”
Rae stared at the heavy, black door while Wulf inspected her like she was a piece of meat. Trembling started in her left leg.
Heat warmed the back of her neck. Rae realized that Wulf must be standing very close behind her, almost touching her. “I like your hair down,” he said and pulled the pins and scrunchie out of her bun. Her hair fell around her shoulders, curling from having been tightly wound. Her headache eased.
“That’s better,” he said, lifting her curls.
