Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Nora Lilja

" I can do this, I can do this, I can do this," I chanted, doing my best to shake off all the excess energy. "I can be a slave, I can be obedient…and all that crap."

I'd never seen the front lawn so packed with people before. I estimated some sixty, maybe seventy people had shown up. I knew twenty-two couples were participating, and then the rest were here to enjoy the show.

Everyone had shown up in the last hour. Before then, we'd been a chill group of Sadists and brats. Now, the serious people were here. Many Masters and Mistresses were dressed up, acting like it was a dog show. Some of them had their slaves in leashes.

Whatever floated their boats!

I snuck closer to Ty and Lane. Like me, they didn't feel like they fit in. They glanced at some of the guests like they were aliens.

I'd changed into a short, spaghetti-strap dress; that was as close to slavery clothing I'd go. Many others had, like…loincloths and little scraps of fabric.

" Jag ?r lite nerv?s ." I told Lane I was a little nervous.

He smiled, confused, and asked why. " Hvorfor ?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I wanna make a good impression. Penelope likes this stuff." Thankfully, only now and then, not as a twenty-four-seven thing. And I kinda loved it too, but I didn't have much experience with TPE.

"You'll be fine," Ty said, folding his arms over his chest. "Colt was gossipin' earlier about how hooked Penelope is on you, so…"

Oh. Yeah, I beamed like the freaking sun.

And then a whole lot of amusement trickled in, because Colt was coming up behind Ty, still a few feet away, but there was a chance he'd heard Ty.

"I thought Sadists didn't gossip," Lane teased. "It's what all of you keep saying. Brats gossip, and Sadists merely inform one another."

Ty smirked to himself and scratched his eyebrow. "There's an exception for fighter pilots, darlin'. Damn gossip queens. But to be fair, there isn't much else for them to do while the rest of us work on their multimillion-dollar toys."

I spluttered and laughed, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. That , Colt had definitely heard. He cocked a brow and swiftly made his presence known by throwing an arm around Ty's shoulder, almost in a headlock-kind of way.

"What was that, buddy?" Colt asked. "Did I hear an Air Force engineer run his mouth again? Why don't you document it? 'Cause that's all you fuckin' do."

Ty rumbled a laugh and playfully punched Colt in the side. "Don't even try. My list of pilot jokes is far longer than anythin' you can come up with about engineers."

"Like I said, y'all document everythin'. I keep my shit up here." He tapped his temple. Then he turned to me and Lane. "Here's a sayin' for ya. A jet is flight ready when the engineers have made so many doodles that the weight of the documentation exceeds the weight of the jet."

"Doodles?" Ty retorted incredulously. "I'll show you fuckin' doodles!"

And they were off…

It was like high school here sometimes.

Lane and I shook our heads at the children.

" Jag ?r inte nerv?s l?ngre om man s?ger s? ," I said dryly, telling him I was no longer nervous.

Lane laughed.

"Nora!" I heard Ash shout.

I spun around, trying to spot him. I'd been waiting for him to get here! There . He emerged between two groups of serious people , and I was so relieved to see he'd shown up in jeans and a tee. No uptight clothes for us.

I jogged over to him. "Hi!"

"Hey, you. Sorry I'm late." He draped an arm around me and ushered me toward the porch steps. They'd be opening the doors any moment now. "My youngest called and asked why she can't eat nail polish to see if it tastes pretty , so that turned into a whole thing. I had to Google the damn ingredients and explain toxicity."

I gigglesnorted. "That'd be Lily, then?" I'd heard some cute stories about her. Ash and Nathan suspected she might be on the autism spectrum, and Ash had mentioned her when Franklin was nearby. Which had prompted a whole conversation because Franklin and Jack's daughter was also named Lily—and she was autistic.

Now, they had plans to go golfing together.

"The very one." Ash nodded with a dip of his chin.

As if on cue, the big doors opened, revealing Reese and Penelope with stone-faced expressions and fancy clothes. Goodness! Penelope in a pencil skirt and a snug button-down…? Sign me up for a teacher fantasy. Or a librarian fantasy. Or anything, really.

"Finally. We've been waitin' forever," Ash told them.

"Oh my gosh, it's starting!" someone called from the crowd.

"We're right on time, fucker." Reese flashed his watch. "See? Four o'clock."

Ash came up to him. "Is this like the guards watchin' the palace in England? Do I get points for making you smile?"

I cleared my throat and tapped his shoulder. "You don't get points for that in England, but you might get arrested, depending on how far you go."

Penelope's lips twitched, and she turned away.

I grinned.

"Enough joking around," Reese said. "We're not here to have fun. That's not what TPE is about."

Lucian came up behind us with Cam, and they furrowed their brows.

"Pardon?" Lucian asked. "Our core kink is not fun?"

"I said what I said, man," Reese grated out. "Come on, quit wastin' time."

When I spotted Macklin coming up the steps with his Owner, we exchanged a brief glance, and he nodded subtly.

It was on!

Anticipation buzzed within me, and I followed Ash inside the house. Considering we'd been banned from being in here up till now, many had bags and clothes to store away; I'd stashed my shorts and top in the bed of Penelope's truck. I'd left my phone there too, safely tucked under a folded tarp.

Eventually, everyone gathered in the club area, and I perked up at the sight of the setup in the seating area. The chairs and sofas and tables had been pushed closer to the wall, and two long tables with white cloths now occupied the space. And with it came a chef. August King was dressed like the chef he was, and he'd prepared stuff on the table, all of which was hidden underneath those silver lids you lifted off a plate at a nice hotel.

The doors leading to the deck were closed, and Jack and Lucas stood there as guards, so I assumed we weren't allowed to be out there.

The cacophony of voices grew louder as the club area filled up, and Reese yelled over the din for everyone to gather at the stage.

My contribution to the brat reveal was done; I'd helped out with the audio, but I saw some others getting ready to finish their part. Tate accepted Macklin's phone and went behind the bar, to the confused look on Kingsley's face. Noa and Corey whispered to each other, and I could tell they'd hidden something under their T-shirts. Most of the other male participants went shirtless.

Last but not least…

I watched with a dumb grin on my face as Macklin left Walker's side and strode up on the stage.

Gah! This was going to be so fun! And also, I had front-row seats to watch Ash's reaction.

"Boy, what do you think you're doin' up there?" Reese demanded. He was instantly on high alert, and I could imagine why.

"Get that brat off the stage!" Colt hollered.

"Now what?" Ash folded his arms over his chest.

Macklin switched on the mic and tested the sound. "Testing, testing. Do we have any scared Sadists in the house?"

"Motherfucker," Greer cursed somewhere behind me. "He picks today ?"

My cheeks hurt from smiling, and I wanted to catch all their reactions. River with his scowl, Reese with his death stare, Colt and Greer with their readiness to get even, and all the brats beaming with excitement.

I found Penelope in the crowd, only to see she was already watching me with a playful warning in her stare.

I blew her a kiss.

"Before the event starts, I would like to take a quick moment to show my appreciation," Macklin said. The crowd piped down one by one, and Macklin paced casually along the length of the demo stage. "As one of the founding members of Mclean House, I've had the privilege of practically growing up with some of you. I remember when I came out here for the first time, just legal enough to buy my own drinks. This was long before Colt grew a mustache." Laughter all around. "Reese and Lucas showed me around the house, and they spoke of the plans they had. Founders' cabins, guest rooms, playrooms, interrogation rooms, this club right here… A lot has changed over the years. For instance, do you know what color the house used to be?"

"Do you know what's happening here?" At the sound of Ash's voice, I glanced up at him, and he could not look more suspicious.

I cranked up my sweet innocence. "No clue whatsoever, Sir."

He snorted, not believing me for shit, and looked back at the stage.

"Every now and then, I like to take a trip down memory lane to remind myself of how far we've come," Macklin went on with a smile. "And of course, some things never change. Like—" He chuckled and shook his head. "A few years ago, for instance. I don't remember if it was after an event, or we were just doing a chill barbecue, but I do recall we had quite the crowd out on the deck."

Oh, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes!

"Reese and Ash, in particular, were in a great mood," he added. "They'd had a few."

Reese and Ash exchanged a look, and Greer leaned forward to speak for only Ash to hear.

"Innocent till proven guilty. Deny, deny, deny, my friend."

Ash nodded once and stood straighter.

I smirked.

Macklin sought out Reese and Ash in the crowd and spoke to them. "Do you remember, Sirs? How you stood out there and soapboxed your asses off? You said things like, don't worry about brats. They get distracted by everything and can barely string a coherent sentence together."

"Whoa!" Noa got huffy.

"The nerve …" Corey chimed in.

"And you said no brat in the universe was bright enough to outsmart you," Macklin chuckled. "Do you remember?"

Reese shrugged and shook his head. "Doesn't sound like us."

Ash agreed. "You're makin' shit up. Rule number one, don't underestimate your enemy."

Macklin grinned. "I'm glad you said that, Sir. Welcome to the stage, Kit and Lane."

I covered my mouth with my hand and struggled to stand still. The two guys entered the club, wheeling in a very old TV.

"Part of going down memory lane is obviously to go through old home movies," Macklin said. "Took me a while to find this in one of the supply closets, but I just had to track down one that still took DVDs."

Yeah, talk about ancient.

"I bet he's never heard of VHS," Greer muttered.

Lane plugged in the TV, and they had everything cued up.

"I'll admit, I've been saving this particular video," Macklin said. "After your grand speech, I thought, this will come in handy one day. I forgot about it, life went on, until one day just a couple months ago—you went on another brat rant, Reese."

River turned to his brother. "You can just never shut up, can you?"

Snickers and chuckles traveled through the crowd once the video started playing. Right then and there, with Ash and Reese standing on the deck outside, going on and on about how clueless brats were.

"Am I right or what?" Reese boomed out in the video. "I swear, I'll streak naked through DC if a brat ever outsmarts me."

"Count me in!" Ash held up a beer bottle. "Ain't never gonna happen!"

And every damn Sadist in the video cheered. Colt, Greer, KC, Kingsley… Lucian chuckled in the background, and even River. River didn't say anything, but you could tell he was in agreement with the other Sadists. They goaded the brats around them, though I could only recognize a few of them. Macklin and Tate were there, as were Ivy and Gretchen. Scowling, shaking their heads…

"Get to the fuckin' point," Reese ordered impatiently. "You haven't outsmarted us."

"Haven't we?" Macklin didn't miss a beat. "Tate?"

"Right away," Tate said. He had the audio cued up on Macklin's phone.

"The rest of you can be the judges," Macklin told everyone. His humor faded, and a hint of his dominance rose to the surface. "But in my eyes, it looks like we successfully fucked with their heads. For weeks ."

What followed was sheer magic. All the recordings we'd saved up. All of us. Tate, Macklin, Kit, Noa, Corey, Lane, Ivy, me… We'd bided our time, and we'd caught the Sadists unaware. At home, at a party, at events, during the cruise—one of us had been ready to capture their speculations, and we'd edited all the snippets to sort of overlap.

"…and do you have anything else? It's gonna happen soon."

"No idea. I don't even know if Tate is involved."

"What do we have so far? Who's in on it?"

"…does anyone know…"

"…any chance have good news to share on the brat prank?"

"Those li'l shits can be crafty sometimes. Kit's upped his game lately…"

"…possibly Tate. We're not sure about him."

"Oh, Ivy's definitely involved."

"What the fuck are they up to? I can't figure it out."

"…we usually have to suffer the most…"

"This is drivin' me batshit!"

"Keep your voice down—he might hear."

"Any more clues?"

"…we think it's gonna be here…"

The moment the audio stopped, you could hear a pin drop in the club.

We totally got them!

We weren't stupid. We knew very well that Reese and Ash—and all the other Sadists, for that matter—loved to rile brats up. What they'd said in the video was them fucking with brats. It wasn't what they actually believed. But either way, now they had to own their claims.

Ash scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed heavily.

Reese scratched his eyebrow and tried to look unfazed. For once, he was failing.

"Don't worry, Sirs," Macklin said into the mic. "We won't make you streak naked through DC. We propose a compromise."

"Fuck my life," Ash chuckled. "All right—give it to us."

"Seriously, dude," Reese snapped. "You're surrenderin' that easy?"

"The longer we drag this out, the more they're gonna enjoy it," Ash pointed out.

He wasn't wrong.

Noa and Corey stopped holding back their laughter, and they scurried up on the stage.

"We ordered two gorgeous summer accessories for you," Macklin continued. "Until the end of August, we want you to wear these when you're around the pool. And any brat who comes up to you is allowed to Sharpie a message on the fabric."

"Good Christ." Ash smacked a hand over his face.

Oh, they were so beautiful! Two pairs of white swim trunks with tiny red hearts all over. Plenty of space to leave messages, which we'd already done. To get them started, so to speak. Who knew how much would remain after a few dips in the pool—hence why we were allowed to add messages.

Right now, the trunks were filled with "THE brATS WON," "I WAS OUTSMARTED BY A brAT," "brATS RULE," and "SADISTS SUUUUCK."

"What do you say, gentlemen?" Macklin asked. "Do you accept our compromise?"

A low murmur erupted among the members, several muttering about the damn brats, some admitting we'd earned our win, and Colt saying, "Revenge will be sweet."

Ash was the first to suck it up and head toward the stage.

River nudged his brother. "Just fuckin' accept they won this round."

In the end, a grumpy Reese accepted his punishment too, and he and Ash met with Macklin on the stage to applause and a new summer outfit.

I clapped and whistled sharply. "You'll look adorable, Sirs!"

Corey snatched the microphone from Macklin. "Also, a round of applause for Macklin, the mastermind who orchestrated this whole thing—but many of us were proud to assist!"

"Go brats!"

"Good job!"

"Nailed it!"

"Go Macklin!"

It was the most exhilarating feeling, which only grew stronger when the Sadists conceded. I watched them all, Colt, Walker, Kingsley—they applauded and admitted they'd been defeated. This round . They were very clear about the last part. This round. Greer, Ty, KC, I could go on. They were surrendering. We'd won this prank.

I beamed with pride and could only imagine what those who'd been around for longer felt. I mean, I knew all about the constant banter going on, and I had my fair share of experience from my old community. But every now and then, the brats brought the trophy home, and it was fucking glorious.

Reese was back in higher spirits within seconds, and he grabbed Macklin in a headlock, kissed the side of his head, and said something in his ear. Whatever it was made Macklin blush and smirk at the same time, and he nodded in response.

Unfortunately, all good things had to come to an end, and when Reese grabbed the mic, that end was nigh.

"Well, my station at this event just became better," he said. "If everyone can simmer down, we'll get this show on the road. Welcome to Slave Mode."

Penelope and Jack joined Reese on the stage, and Ash returned to me.

With a pair of trunks in his grasp.

I grinned at him.

He shook his head in amusement. "Fuckin' brats."

Yes, Sir!

Penelope was the next one to speak into the mic. "As promised from last month's Game, the Easter Egg Hunt, we have three winners to announce too. You'll find the scores posted on the website later tonight, but in the meantime, give it up for Shay, who finished in third place, Noa, who placed second, and Kit, who came in first!"

"Woo-hoo! Congratulations!" I cheered.

Kit looked stunned and flushed adorably at everyone clapping, and he immediately plastered himself to a proud Daddy Colt.

So cute.

"Let's see who wins at being a good slave today, shall we?" Penelope handed the mic over to Jack.

I can be a slave, I can be a slave!

Maybe.

Jack cleared his throat. "Our dungeon monitors will hand out information about your groups and some event rules as we do a roll call."

Santiago came up to Reese with a clipboard, and they started crossing people off, half to themselves, though we still heard them.

"Let's see, I saw Lucian and Cam already, then Walker and Bratlin, Colt with Kit…" Reese went down the list. "River and Shay, Ash and Nora… Are Ty and Lane here?"

"Yes, Sir!" Lane called out.

Reese continued. "I saw OG August and Ev, and Dean and Gael are over there… KC, Noa, Anthony, Camden, Greer and Archie…"

I zoned out when Lucas handed Ash a piece of paper, and he showed it to me. So in our group, it was Ash and me, Greer and Archie, KC and Noa, Kingsley and Tate, and Anthony and Camden. A good mix of TPE peeps and fun-loving brats.

Ash tapped his finger over one of the rules. "We already covered this."

Yes. The rule was that slaves weren't allowed to speak; if they had something to say, aside from safewording, they needed to ask for permission by signaling to their Top. And Ash and I had agreed I was going to grab his hand.

"Please take a moment to read the terms properly," Penelope ordered.

Another rule, all slaves must walk behind their Owners.

Doable.

I was fairly certain I knew how to fake it till I made it. TPE could be so damn beautiful to watch, and I'd done a lot of watching.

I wanted Penelope to be proud of me.

After a long safety lecture, the organizers gave us absolutely nothing on what we could expect. They didn't want us to know before we arrived at the stations, so we still only knew the themes of the four stations. Pose for Your Owner, Suffer for Your Owner, Serve Your Owner, and Treat Your Owner.

"With that said," Reese went on. "We have a fifth, separate station that will be unattended. Partly because so many signed up—which we're happy about—partly to ensure we have enough staff at each station, and partly to have a spot to send everyone if we feel a certain station gets too crowded. If that happens, we might send a group to the fifth station more than once."

Penelope leaned forward and asked what had to be a scripted question. "And what's this fifth station about?"

"I'm so glad you asked," Reese chuckled. "We are announcing an official mascot competition. Each and every one of you will be encouraged to illustrate a mascot for our community, and the four judges will pick out our top ten. Afterward, those ten contributions will be photographed and posted online, where the entire community can vote." He paused briefly while brats like Corey and Kit whooped their excitement. "We won't tell you how or what to draw, but I will say that the judges will choose according to these following guidelines. The mascot needs to represent the whole community. It can't be too vulgar. If you write Team House Mclean on it, it'll get disqualified?—"

"Booo!"

"Boo!"

"Lame!"

"This is pure censorship!"

Reese just smirked. "Lastly, make sure you write your online username next to the illustration."

Well, I wasn't sure I was gonna enjoy that so much. At best, I could draw a stick figure with a flogger.

"The mascot thing won't be part of the Game, right?" I asked Ash. "I won't be able to score us squat with my stick figures."

He laughed through his nose. "Nah, it's just a side thing."

Phew. Bad enough I had to be judged on grace, obedience, and…whatever else they'd mentioned. Something like how well I knew my Owner. Oh, and performance.

Dammit, I was nervous again!

"The event begins in five minutes," Jack stated. "That's when we start registering every infraction we see, and that's when you need to be present at your first station. Good luck, everyone."

I chewed on my lip as Ash and I scanned the piece of paper again. Our first station was Treat Your Owner, which was located behind us. We'd go there twice during the event, and given that August King was decked out in chef's clothes, it was safe to assume we'd cook something. Or bake? Maybe?

The people around us started moving, and Owners were slinging reminders to their slaves.

"You ready, li'l cub?"

I took a deep breath. "Fuck yeah, Big Bear."

"Then let's do this. Activate slave mode." He freaking booped me on the nose, like it was some button.

I cracked up and shoved at him.

He was very pleased with his joke.

But then it was go-time, and I took another deep breath and got serious. Ash took the lead, and I walked behind him as instructed.

We joined up with Greer and Archie, and Kingsley and Tate weren't far behind. Lastly, two Daddies who couldn't predict how things would go with their Littles, Camden and Noa.

"I'm prepared for anything," KC said.

"Same here," Anthony chuckled.

August smiled from the other side of the long tables. "Welcome to your first station. I'm Chef King, and your slave's task is very simple. Each slave lifts one lid, reads the recipe, and creates a dough. They have ten minutes."

Oh my gosh. Okay. Okay. Ten minutes. To bake something—got it. I could do that.

I noticed he wasn't speaking to us, just our Owners. I supposed that was part of it.

Camden snuck out from behind Anthony and waved at August. "Hi, Daddy," he whispered.

I stifled my grin. Good thing we hadn't started yet!

Chef King humored his boy with a kind smile. "Hello, little one. You'll be a good boy for Daddy now, yes?"

"The best in the galaxy!" Camden promised.

"Too fuckin' precious," Ash chuckled quietly.

Just a beat later, Jack announced that the event had started, and it did something to me. I automatically straightened and made sure my posture was good, and I lowered my gaze to the floor.

"There we have it, slaves," Chef King said. "Come forward and begin. Ten minutes on the clock—now."

Nu j?vlar.

I rounded Ash and went for the nearest spot in front of us, and I lifted the lid. Okay, okay, got it. Flour, softened butter, sugar, vanilla extract, one egg, salt, baking powder… I suspected we'd be making those American sugar cookies. My dad loved them, with way too much icing. Plus, I spotted a cookie cutter, so yeah.

I grabbed the recipe, and sure enough—sugar cookies.

"My cookie cutter is an airplane, Daddy!" Noa said happily. "Oh crap."

Mine was the shape of a T-shirt, and I was not announcing that.

Dammit, Archie was already mixing ingredients. In the right order too. He knew what he was doing. Honestly, I loved to bake, but my strength was in cooking.

Chef King and one of his helpers—Franklin—handed out baking sheets as we worked.

"When the dough is ready, you roll it out and use the cookie cutters," Chef King said. "We'll write your names on each sheet, and we'll store them in the fridges until it's time to bake them. And by the time you return for your second visit, you will decorate them for your Owners. If you understand, say, yes, Chef King."

"Yes, Chef King," we replied in unison.

"Music to my ears," Greer murmured.