THREE
“Your b*****e group really gets into their personas,” Geoff marveled as I wondered what I could do to escape the hell my life had suddenly become. “Wow. Those are some inventive outfits. Kind of like Ren Faire meets Mistress Sadista. Most of the b*****e ensembles I’ve seen have just consisted of a hood and banana hammock, and maybe some chest restraints. But your group is really . . . interesting. I really like the weapons.”
“b*****e!” Eirik said in an outraged tone. “We are not slaves! We are the masters of slaves!”
Geoff sidled over to me and said in a whisper, “Seriously, three tops to one bottom? You don’t want to go there.”
“That’s not what she means,” I told Eirik before turning back to Geoff with a speculative glance. “How much money would it take for you to leave for two
