“Whatever you were called before, forget it. From now on, you’re to be known as Miss Wednesday.”

“Miss Wednesday,” Mari repeated skeptically. She winced as the nameless attendant—or whatever the hell she was—grabbed her hands and ran some sort of exfoliating machine over her palms. “I’m reduced to a fucking day of the week?”

“Except for tonight, the Master will visit you only on Wednesdays. On the other days, you will be free to do as you please.” The woman’s blue eyes narrowed as rubbed the calluses on Mari’s palm with her thumb. “You slum girls are all the same. Rough hands. I will give you a cream. Apply it to your palms before you sleep for a week. You have to soften that hard skin, girl. The Master likes it that way. And no swearing. The next time you use a filthy word, I will have to punish you.”

“Free to do as I please…” Mari looked around at her new environment. She was in a large, sumptuously appointed room. One one side, a seamless floor-to-ceiling window looked out onto a lush tropical garden. Water cascaded down a grey wall, rippling the glassy surface of a lily-filled pond. In the center of the room was a curved white couch decorated with black velvet cushions. The couch alone was bigger than Mari and Arturo’s domicile in the Dust Alleys. A large blue patterned rug softened the polished stone floor, and the walls were adorned with fashionable projection-art depicting images of nature—trees, flowers, landscapes.

It was all very nice… and sterile.

Through an open doorway, she spied a bedroom. The doorway revealed a glimpse of a bed covered in silken black sheets.

Mari suppressed a shudder. Whoever had bought her was rich, and it was obvious he only wanted her for one thing.

She was supposed to become someone’s pet.

What did they expect her to do for the other six days of the week? Fucking vegetate?

“As you can see, every effort has been made to ensure your comfort. Food can be ordered from the menu provided by the AI beside the entrance. An attendant will arrive every morning to present your outfits and supervise your grooming. You must maintain your weight between one hundred and thirty to one hundred and thirty-five pounds at all times. Any gain or loss outside these parameters will result in punishment. The garden-door will be unlocked between ten and eleven a.m. every morning. Use your outdoor time wisely. He likes the slight tan you have now.”

What kind of messed-up place is this? Her new owner—even just thinking about the concept made her shudder—was obviously very specific in his requirements. He was also a weirdo. Only visited her on Wednesdays? What, did he have a different girl for every bloody day of the week?

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” The woman slipped on a pair of black silk gloves and crossed her arms. “He’s doing you a favor. You’ll have a much better life here than you did in the Dust Alleys.”

“Favor?” A bitter laugh escaped Mari’s lips. “I’m a prisoner in a fucking gilded cage.” She put special emphasis on the curse-word, just because the attendant had warned her against it.

The woman reached into her tailored black jacket and produced a small silver device. “I warned you.” She pressed a button.

Mari gasped.

Excruciating pain shot through her neck, coming from a thin silver necklace.

Bastards! The innocent looking piece of jewelry they’d placed around her neck was actually some sort of shock-collar. In desperation, she tucked her fingers under it and tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no clasp.

“It can’t be removed without this key,” the attendant informed her, waving the silver thing—a wand of some sort—around. “As long as you behave, it won’t be used.”

“You think you can tame me with that thing?” Mari’s eyes narrowed in hatred. These rich people and their enforcers thought they could own people… thought they could turn other human beings into their playthings.

“It’s a safety precaution, to make both our lives easier. Once you know the boundaries, you won’t be tempted to overstep them. We don’t want to hurt you, Miss Wednesday. If you obey, we won’t have to.”

Mari glared at the woman but kept her mouth shut. Now that the battle-lines were drawn, she could plan her disorder. These soft Telurians didn’t truly understand where she was from. In the Dust Alleys, every day of one’s life was a punishment. Poverty was pain, and Mari had a high threshold for it. She would just have to tread carefully until she understood this place a little better. With time, this so-called Master would understand that he’d purchased defective goods.

“Who is he?” Mari wanted to know who the bastard was, so she could put a name to her hatred.

“You don’t need to know who he is in the real world. To you, he is Master. Now, take off your robe.”

“What?”

“Don’t waste my time, Wednesday. He will be here soon to view you.”

View… Mari suppressed a shudder.

“You want me to strip…”

“Off!” The attendant’s voice became stern, cracking like a whip. The choker around Mari’s neck tingled with a faint electric charge, reminding her of the consequences of disobedience.

“And what happens if I refuse?” Mari’s voice grew soft. The rebellious part of her wanted to spit in the woman’s face, but the voice of reason inside her head told her not to.

You should probably try and get a better idea of what’s going on here before you do anything crazy.

What she really wanted to know was what happened to the girls who refused to obey even after they’d been punished time and time again. Mari wasn’t born yesterday. She knew her life was worth less than a speck of dust to these people if she didn’t serve her purpose.

And people who dealt with Darkside gangsters could do sinister things.

“I would not recommend it. If you refuse, we will have to do things the hard way. That would be humiliating for you.” The way the attendant said it, along with her completely deadpan expression, told Mari she was prepared to go to extremes.

Mari carefully swallowed her smart-ass retort.

Lord, this place gave her the creeps.

“If you have any qualms about being naked, you’d best forget them now. There’s nothing we haven’t already seen.”

Assholes! When Mari had first arrived at the compound, she’d been sedated. Whatever they’d injected into her had put her in a barely conscious state, and her recollection of events was hazy.

All she remembered was a white room, medical people wearing masks, bright lights…

And when the stuff had finally worn off, she’d found herself in this luxurious prison, wearing only a fluffy white bathrobe. Her hair was damp, and a pleasant floral scent surrounded her. Her fingernails and toenails had been trimmed. The red lacquer coating on her nails had been removed, replaced with a pale shade of pink.

So they’d done what? Stripped her, bathed her, primped her up and wrapped her in this fucking robe. She wore no shoes, not even slippers, and she was naked underneath the robe.

An unpleasant sensation crawled down the back of her neck. What else had they done to her? Her body had been violated.

The shock of that realization threatened to bring tears to her eyes, but Mari refused to cry. Instead, she closed her eyes, held her chin up and unfastened the belt of her robe, letting the garment slip over her shoulders and drop to the floor.

She wouldn’t give them any reason to sedate her or punish her. So what if she was naked? She was proud of her body. If she refused to feel humiliated, then they couldn’t use her nakedness against her.

Mari stood with her skin bare, the cool air raising goosebumps on her skin. She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead as the attendant slowly walked around her, inspecting every inch of her body.

“Acceptable,” she said at last. She pressed another button on her device and a wardrobe opened. A porter-bot emerged, emitting a soft mechanical whine as it rolled toward them.

A white garment was draped over one of its rails. Impossibly tall silver heels sat on its main shelf.

Fuck-me heels.

The irony of the situation didn’t escape Mari. She’d lost one pair of fuck-me heels and found another.

“Get dressed,” snapped the attendant. “Then you will sit here and not move until the Master arrives. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t disappoint me now, girl.” The attendant slid her the silver wand—the device that controlled the shock-collar—into her coat. “If you make a good impression on the Master, you might just earn yourself some special privileges.”

“Uh, huh.” Mari took the white garment from the porter-bot and held it up. It was a dress, made from some silky, barely-there stretchy fabric.

“Put it on.”

The dress was open at the front. Mari slid her arms into the long sleeves and fastened the collar, which concealed her neck. A barely visible zipper ran from neck to knee. As she slowly drew it closed, she realized they’d removed all the hair from her nether regions.

Creeps.

Of course, the dress fit perfectly, hugging her curves and leaving little to the imagination. The outline of her nipples was clearly visible, and the garment narrowed at her knees, forcing her to stand in a slightly awkward position.

Nice taste, asshole.

Mari swiped the silver heels from the porter-bot and dropped them on the blue carpet. She slid her feet into them and stood. Suddenly, she was about six inches taller than the attendant. “What do you think?” She produced her most charming smile.

“Do not change anything. This is exactly what he wants.”

Mari took a step forward and stumbled. “Oh!” She put out a hand and grabbed the woman’s shoulder. “Sorry.” She faked a nervous laugh. “Guess I’m not used to these new heels.”

As she righted herself, the attendant stepped back. “You’d better get used to them, because you’ll be wearing them a lot.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Mari fought to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Go and sit on the sofa with your legs crossed, right over left. Do not move until he gives you permission. Remember, you are being watched at all times.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Mari kept the sweet smile on her face as she slid the item she’d stolen—the shock collar’s control wand—up her sleeve. What these people didn’t know was that she was used to being watched, and she was well versed in the art of distraction.

All she had to do now was engineer a miracle. The wishful part of her secretly hoped for a Tall, Dark, and Brutal miracle, but she quickly quashed that thought.

Life in the Dust Alleys had long ago taught her that wishful thinking could dull even the most finely honed survival instincts.