Page 67 of Savage

The charcuterie tray is filled with meat, cheese, crackers, and some grapes that try to escape the confines of the platter. I balance it with all the skill I learned when serving men who tried to grope me and throw me off at every turn.

It’s only that experience that keeps me from dropping it when I see the other two men in the living room—one lean East Asian man, and a broad-shouldered and imposing Caucasian man. I think I can guess whose voice belongs to who.

I bow my head before Hunter chides me for staring, setting the tray down on the coffee table without a word.

I don’t know why I expected to be dismissed. That obviously doesn’t happen.

“Turn around for Chase and Drake,” Hunter orders me. “Let them see all of you.”

My cheeks heat up when I straighten, turning so both men can see all of me. I tilt my head up just a little so they can see the way the straps form a collar around my throat, the way it hugs me too tightly to be comfortable. I don’t dare look at them any longer, though, instead training my gaze against the plain white walls as I dimly wonder in the back of my mind where they’d gotten color from in this room.

“Delicious. You do like the waifish types, don’t you?” I don’t have to look at the men to know it’s the broad-shouldered one, the one whose voice is cold and cruel yet somehow filled with delight at my predicament.

Hunter doesn’t respond.

The other man’s gaze settles on me, and I squirm. “Love the outfit. Did they charge you by the amount of fabric it doesn’t use?”

Hunter huffs, and I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused. “I paid premium for the leather.”

I swallow hard. I imagine he did, though I don’t know why. Just to amuse his friends? To titillate them? To tempt them? I don’t know what he has planned, and that scares me more than anything.

I don’t want to be the main event at another gangbang.

“Uh huh,” the bigger man drawls. “Hey, girl. Enjoying serving this asshole right here?”

I blink, startled into staring at him. I glance at Hunter, not sure if he’ll want me to speak at all, even if it is to lie and say I am.

Hunter gives him an annoyed glare. “Keep that up, and I’m kicking you out.”

The Asian man laughs. “Better behave, Drake! Hunter tolerates no disobedience.”

Drake. I commit the name to memory, for all that I never, ever intend to use it. That means the man with the accent has to be Chase.

“Can’t blame a man for being curious,” Drake says with a smirk. “Anyway, it’s cute to see how she looks to you to see what to say.”

“At least she’s learned a little bit,” Hunter says mildly. “She was certainly trying to prove how disobedient she could be a few days ago.”

I flinch, quickly looking down at the floor. I want to tell him I’m sorry again, to get down on my knees and beg for his forgiveness, but this isn’t the time or place for that. Instead, I stand there so they can keep looking at me.

“Did you train her to do anything else? Or just to stand there?” Chase says. “If I had one of my own, I’d probably do regular floggings. Just so she’d know where she stood with me.”

I shudder at that, hunching my shoulders and hugging my arms against my chest.

“Let me guess,” Drake says mockingly. He leans forward and grabs a few things from the tray, putting the meat and cheese onto a cracker. “He’s trained her to do anything he says, but to just stand there when he isn’t using her. If you wanted a sex doll, you could’ve gotten one for much cheaper, you know.” He bites down, the sound obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“A sex doll can’t obey orders,” Hunter counters. “For example—bend over the ottoman and spread your legs wide, Stef.”

I’m trembling, and tears are already pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I obey. It means I can’t help but look at Drake where he’s sprawled out across the couch, and I’m all too aware of just how open and vulnerable it makes me to everyone in the room.

Hunter makes a sound that gives away nothing. “There’s a container next to the couch. Pick something from it and we’ll use it on her.”

Drake gets up, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. “You wanna decide, Chase?” He starts to dig through the container, whistling. “Nice selection here, but I’d go bigger, or more interesting. Like the ones with the knots or the ribbed sections. Gotta make sure she feels it, Hunter!”

“Jesus, Hunter, this flogger is practically vanilla,” Chase says.

I can’t see what he’s doing, but I know how any flogger can be vanilla. My shoulders tense and I bury my head as much as I can into the ottoman.

“I do want her to still be usable in the morning,” Hunter responds drily. “Are you going to pick something or not?”

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