Chapter 41
Nothing happened until the evening.
Stefan was left locked in the spare room and collared to one of the bedposts after lunch, but as darkness began to creep across the sky outside, Daz came upstairs and let him out. He was showered again and scrubbed, bent over against the tiles and humiliatingly deep-cleaned with the shower hose until he felt like he could piss clean water for days, then was rubbed down with a rough towel.
“If they want you to come, you do it. But you don’t touch yourself. And you don’t ask to be touched,” Daz said briskly. “Understood?”
“They?”
“Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You show me up tonight, I’ll punish you properly. You want that?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good. What do you say if you want it to stop?”
“Checkmate. Sir.”
Stefan was handed clothes—loose cotton
