Page 47 of The Masquerade: Room 2

Ring! Ring! Ring!

I expect it to go to voicemail, ready to hang up when his dark, delicious voice speaks into my ear.

“Hello, little one. It took you longer than I anticipated to call.” He knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away. Part of me is excited by how well he knows me. It’s ridiculous when the reason we haven’t spoken is my reticence to give him my name.

“Did you miss me, Sir?”

“You haven’t earned the answer to that, little one.” A thrill courses through me.

“And what would I have to do to earn such an answer?”

“You need only tell me your first name. Baby steps.”

“Would it earn me a trip back to your playroom?”

“Most certainly, however, it would be for your punishment.”

“My… punishment?” I swallow hard as I contemplate the idea, squeezing my thighs together.

“Yes. You didn’t tell me you were a virgin, and you’ve taken a week to contact me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. It was never my intention to displease you.”

“I meant what I said. I won’t have sex with you again until you reveal your face or your name to me.”

“Why?”

“It is not for you to question. You might try addressing me appropriately. You’ve just added two to your punishment.”

“Two of what, Sir?”

“That’s for me to know. Are you going to do what’s necessary to reenter my playroom?”

My heart is hammering in my chest, my pulse galloping like an untamed stallion. What’s the worst that could happen? My first name gives nothing away.

“What if I keep wearing the mask?”

“Then I will only teach you. Clearly, you have much to learn. When you ask me a question, I expect you to call me Sir.”

“What does that mean… Sir?”

“Let me worry about the details. First things first, will you agree to telling me your first name?”

I hesitate, a pregnant pause hanging on the line between us. It’s not because I’m unsure of my decision. It’s because I know I would do almost anything to experience his punishment. To bask in the glow of his playroom once more.

“Well, little one, what’s it going to be?” Butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach as he caresses my name.

“I like when you call me, little one. I don’t want that to change, Sir.”

“If that is your preference, I will continue to do so. One doesn’t negate the other.”

“Okay.” He waits me out, my voice croaking as I continue. “My name is Freya.”

“Freya.” I swear I could come just hearing him purr my name. I wasn’t expecting it to spark my desire, making me wet as I sit on the edge of my bed, clutching my towel tighter. “A beautiful name, my little one.”

“Thank you, Sir.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper.

“Isn’t that better? I’ve eaten you out in public and taken your virginity in private, and yet it feels like meeting you for the first time. My name is…”

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