Doll's Declaration

Willow's fingers close over the phone, the kneeling photo still bright, and she lifts her chin to meet David's eyes. 'I am Master's pleasure doll,' she says, the words trembling but clear, and she presses the phone back into his hand. He studies her, then slides the phone into his jacket pocket, the draft unsent, and curls a hand around her throat. 'Then prove it,' he murmurs, and nods toward the restaurant's restroom corridor, the plug humming as she rises on her heels.