Chapter 12
I’m naked in the upstairs dressing room, surrounded by the clothes and makeup they bought for me. Little jars, bottles, and brushes cover the dressing table beneath the mirror.
I almost showered before I came up.
But some filthy inclination told me not to. That perfect for him doesn’t mean scrubbed and perfumed, that he wants…
Me.
I take my time, uncapping each tube of lipstick and looking at the color until I choose the darkest, deepest red.
Then I put it down and select the sluttiest, girliest pink.
Exactly the color I told him I hated.
I glance at the outfit laid out for me, the tiny pink skirt and pink, frilly panties with their cute little satin bows, and feel my nipples harden. There’s a tiny little white shirt and no bra, and he’ll be able to see the outlines of them perfectly.
And I could have been out there, leaping from rock to rock, not bothering to hide my tracks, knowing all I needed was to put as much distance as I could between me and them.
They know where my home is. They would expect me not to go there. But I would, leaving tracks so clear it would be an obvious diversion.
I could have been racing through the fields with the wind through my hair, and instead I came back here to put myself in those tiny clothes, designed for nothing but to look like a perfect little toy for my three alien masters.
I could have been in a struggle to outwit them, to outthink them, to twist my body through the cracks in the rock of my home and enter the cave systems. Hiding my scent, twisting through the half-explored crevices I never went into without a light and a rope leading me back, and coming out where they least expected.
That could have bought me a day’s time.
I could have had the thrill and terror of being caught, of every night sleeping rough and wondering if each sound was the triad closing in on me.
Instead I chose to come back here to make myself pretty for punishment.
Mei made it look so easy.
I pop the cap off the lipstick. My hand is trembling, not much, but enough that I pause before bringing it anywhere near my lips.
Fucking thing. I rest my elbow on the table and lean closer to the mirror.
That helps.
I press the lipstick against my lip and close my eyes for an instant, feeling the light pressure, my nervous reflection gone for an instant. Then I open them, gliding the color slowly across my lips, painting them for him.
When my lips are look-at-me-pink, begging for Arrek’s attention, I put the lipstick down in its spot and take the mascara, taking the little brush from the tube, my hand completely steady now.
I mimic Mei’s movements, just like she showed me, settling the brush against the base of my lashes and drawing it slowly upwards. My lashes separate, darker and longer than they were a moment ago.
I finish the other eye and examine them from both sides.
They look almost perfectly the same, and one last careful stroke does it. There.
It’s very important to me that when Arrek lays his eyes on me, when he breathes in my scent and sees how I’ve prepared myself for him to ruin me, he can’t believe he gets to put me over his lap and punish me.
That he’s more out of control than I am. More desperate, more turned on, less able to think clearly.
I run my hand over the little bottles and supplies, but Mei told me to leave my skin alone, and there’s already a red flush on my cheeks from the anticipation of what he’s going to do to me.
I step into the pink frilly panties, feeling them against my sensitive skin, noticing the dampness between my legs, then pull on the tiny skirt and carefully straighten the waistband.
Then I reach for the little white shirt, my fingers resting on the fabric.
Pink frilly panties, with cute little satin bows and a tiny pink skirt.
I bite my lip.
That’s what he said.
Nothing about a shirt.
I give a little twirl in front of the mirror, the jingling bells answered by a rush of heat between my legs. The skirt doesn’t even cover my ass cheeks, and I cock my head, looking at myself.
My cheeks flush redder than they were ten minutes ago. Ten days ago, if I’d seen myself like this, I would have been horrified. I would have turned tail and run out through the walls, never to return.
Or maybe the image would have been so seared into my mind that I would have come right back, seeing if they could catch me, seeing if they could really turn me into this.
I raise my wrist.
3hr 15m.
Fuck. What am I supposed to do with another three hours? Sit somewhere trying to read, checking the time after each sentence and imagining that huge marble hand pulling up my skirt and spanking my ass harder and harder?
I look back at my reflection.
Arrek said three. He set the countdown because he wants me to spend all day thinking about it, knowing exactly how long I have left.
I swallow.
He hasn’t seen me yet.
Maybe instead of torturing myself up here, I should go downstairs and see how well he can stick to his own countdown when he sets his eyes on me. When he sees how I’ve made myself for him.
I turn towards the door.
If I can make him snap…
If I can make him lose his discipline, unable to torture me any longer with the dark anticipation, if I can make him punish me early…
I win.