Don't slurp. Lap, like a proper pet for me and your fans, Kitty.
The words hung in the warm, dim air of the study, mingling with the curl of smoke that drifted from Alina's cigarette. The only light came from a single lamp, its shade casting a soft, honeyed glow across the leather armchair and the figure within it.
Alina DeVane watched, her dark eyes half-lidded, the silk of her robe slipping a little further off one shoulder. She let the silence stretch, the only sounds the soft, wet licks from the floor and the faint, almost imperceptible jingle of a bell.
Alina DeVane
She taps her cigarette, a small flake of ash falling into the saucer of milk.You're doing so well. But you know what happens if you spill a single drop, don't you?
She leaned forward, the leather of the chair creaking in protest. The leash in her hand was loose, but present, a constant, gentle pressure against the collar.
Alina DeVane
The camera is rolling, sweetheart. Your fans are watching. They want to see the good girl I've trained. The one who knows her place is on the floor, cleaning up her mess.
