Page 34 of Unrestricted
By Friday night at eight o'clock I'm ready to tear my hair out if I don't get a change of scenery.
At least, I would be if Rosa hadn't made such a good job of arranging my unruly waves into an elegant updo that gives me a swanlike neck.
After she finished with my hair, she helped me put on the blue silk dress Adriano requested I wear for the occasion and a pair of Jimmy Choos that are as impractical as they are beautiful.
When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize myself. Well, that's not quite true. I see glimpses of the woman I was when Gabriele used to take me to upscale events. I'm a better version of her now.
At least, I hope I am, thoughbettermight be a generous description for a woman who destroyed a silk gown in a fit of anger.
I've been thinking all day about the second consequence Adriano mentioned. Some ideas have come to mind but I haven't wanted to dwell on any of them.
I'm hoping it's not that he's going to thrash my ass with his belt before we go out. The thought of spending the evening in discomfort as my dress chafes my punished flesh doesn't appeal.
From the closet, or dressing room as Rosa prefers to call it, I hear the whir of the lock on the bedroom door.
Every time I hear it I want to scream I know I'm a prisoner. I don't need constant reminders of the fact.
Heavy footsteps head my way.
"Are you ready?" Adriano asks, his eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"Can't you tell?"
I thought I looked amazing but now he has me doubting it. Is my hair not right? My makeup? Are my shoes wrong? What about me suggests I'm not ready?
"Hmm," he muses. "There is something missing."
He produces a box from the inner pocket of his jacket. For a moment I think he's brought me jewelry to wear and then I realize the box is the wrong size.
He starts to lift the lid and even before he opens it I suspect I know what's in there. It's the second consequence. I knew it was coming and I’m still not ready.
He holds out the box to me and I swallow hard. There are two items in there that anyone who's read a spicy romance would recognize instantly.
The first is a shiny metal butt plug that has a pretty pink gem at its base. I guess that could count as jewelry. The second is a black leather collar.
"Which would you prefer?" Adriano asks.
It's a crappy choice. The collar isn't discreet. A black velvet band or a diamond choker could signify the same thing, a private message between a couple. This leather strip with a large buckle looks like something you'd put on a dog.
Wearing it would get me noticed for all the wrong reasons. Still, it's preferable to attending a gala with the great and good of Roman society with a foreign object lodged up my butt.
"The collar," I say, hoping he'll tell me it's just a test and I don't really have to wear either. "I'll take the collar."
"Good choice."
He removes the collar and sets the box down on the dressing table. He walks around and loops the leather around my neck, then fastens it so it fits snugly. It presses against my throat and I won't be able to ignore its presence but it's not unbearably tight.
"How does it feel?" he asks.
"It's fine." I lean forward to examine it in the mirror. So much for my swanlike neck. With this thing on I look like a fucking greyhound.
"Good. I want everyone to look at you and know what you are."
My heart thunders in my chest. "What am I?"
"Mine."
I don't know what to do with that statement of possession but Adriano doesn't give me time to ponder it.
