Chapter Twelve
“Wake up.” Brant was kicking her leg to wake her. Regina woke with a start. She had learned to snatch catnaps whenever she could, ignoring any minor annoyances that might attend them. She had become accustomed to the lack of bedding, the chill night air on her naked flesh, and her confining chains. If she was bound or plugged for the night, the discomfort was inadequate distraction. She had learned to live in a state of perpetual arousal. Even the ritual groveling that Brant continually demanded no longer bothered her.
In fact, she found a perverse pleasure in begging now. Describing herself in the most demeaning terms actually made her wet. Contemplating the acts she so humbly requested focused her mind and forced her to come to terms with them. Brant’s office had become
