Chapter 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

DAPHNE

I’m naked.

I’m naked with a collar around my neck and a butt plug attached to a tail up my ass.

I am naked, being escorted by a leash into an old historic bank to what is secretly known as The Vault , full of men who watch our every move as we enter.

There is a man wearing a dark suit, a black cloak with a hood, and a mask standing behind the counter as a bank teller would. The mask is demonic and conceals who the man is behind it.

“That’s The Vault Keeper,” Apollo says as he guides us in his direction. “Get your secret ready.”

Secret? I’ve heard that giving a secret is the only way in, but I hadn’t really planned on doing it, and I have no idea what to even write down. How truthful does Apollo want me to be? I was told that once I marry a Godwin, I never reveal a single secret. Never.

We approach the window, and The Vault Keeper pushes two pieces of heavy card stock and two Mont Blanc pens in our direction. I see dark eyes behind the mask but can’t see anything that humanizes this person at all beyond that. Even his hands are covered in black leather gloves.

Apollo quickly takes the paper and pen and starts writing something down. I don’t dare try to peek even though I want to. What secret is he writing? What is he willing to tell a complete stranger? Godwins are known for their ability to keep secrets. It’s one of the main reasons that they don’t believe in divorce. Once you marry into the family, you are privy to the secrets that live inside their walls. Never would they allow someone to have access and then leave with the knowledge. That would be them willingly giving power away. Godwins don’t give power away.

Before I even start writing my secret down, Apollo folds his paper and hands it to The Vault Keeper. The masked person takes a minute to read it, folds it again, puts it into a safety deposit box, and nods his or her approval. I assume The Vault Keeper is a man, but there is no real way of knowing. They both then look at me, waiting for me to write something down.

I quickly write down that I was the one who turned Apollo in for killing a man. I assume that it’s a secret worthy enough of getting into The Vault, and if it upsets Apollo I gave such a secret, well that’s on him. It’s his fault for taking me here to begin with. The Vault Keeper reads it, glances at Apollo, and then nods his head in approval as he puts my secret into the locked box as well. The Vault Keeper then nods his head again and points to a staircase that leads beneath the bank. It appears as if we earned our key into the secret club.

As we walk down the stairs, the only thing that my mind can focus on is the smell of food. I’m famished. A huge table is lined up with dishes of pasta and meats. No Italian restaurant could compare to the spread that I gaze upon as I take the last few steps, entering the room just a few inches behind Apollo. The fragrance is like a kick to my empty gut, and I’d do just about anything—include walk naked—to eat the food.

“Gentlemen,” Apollo says with a nod to a few of the guests who stand nearby.

Luckily, I don’t recognize any of the men in the room, and I count my blessings for how long it’s been since I’ve lived on Heathens Hollow. None of these men were friends with my dad, but then again, the Godwins never would lower themselves to interacting with men like him. I don’t think any of them recognize me as the shoeless, dirty, Eastsider I once was.

“Where are your pets?” Apollo asks.

“We have them all in a room together,” one man replies. “There’s some business to discuss before we begin the party, and we didn’t feel it was a conversation that our…” the man pauses and looks at me, then back at Apollo, “that our pets need to hear. ”

Apollo nods and hands the leash to a man who appears to be staff rather than a guest standing on his right. “Bring my pet to join the others,” he commands, never once looking at me. I don’t know why the fact Apollo doesn’t look at me bothers me more than the fact I’m naked and being treated like an animal.

I’m being cast off to someone else, and I hate it. I hate leaving Apollo’s side.

Why?

Why the fuck should I care?

My stomach gurgles as I’m led away from the table of food. I wonder how long it will be until I’m allowed to shove a forkful of pasta into my mouth.

I must walk too slowly by the display because the man now holding my leash tugs me a little harder to silently command me to keep up. As I pad barefoot behind him, and am led to a closed door, I look over my shoulder and see Apollo sit down at the table with about ten other men, and there are looks of concern and anger on all of their faces. Jaws are locked, eyes dark and narrow, and tension thickens the air.

I can’t help wonder if it has something to do with the Godwin family and that is why Apollo felt the need to pay a visit to The Vault when we’ve never attended before.

The door is opened, and I’m shoved inside. I take a moment to adjust my eyes to the dimly lit room. I already know there will be other women in the room since I’m going to join the other pets, but I’m not prepared for what I see.

Sitting on the floor are ten women. One pet for each man outside.

There are several kitties, puppies, another bunny, and even a unicorn. Each of them are collared and tailed just as I am, and some even have wrist and ankle restraints with far more chains attached. I suppose I’m lucky to only have my leash as the only heavy metal chain. Their eyes are wide and curious as they examine me quietly as the man pushes me the rest of the way in, presses me on my shoulders until I kneel on the ground, then silently closes the door and leaves to join the male guests in the other room.

Being on all fours, I’m not sure what to do. Should I crawl closer to where they all sit? Should I say something? Each woman is naked, vulnerable; but they don’t seem frightened or upset to be in the situation they are in. And I’m once again relieved I don’t recognize any of the women, which means they may not know who I am .

“We have a new pet tonight,” one woman—with a kitten tail—says with a smile. Her lips are red, her makeup dark, and her hair is up in two ponytails to appear more catlike.

“Pretty,” another woman who has bunny ears besides her collar and tail says. Her voice is soft and seductive.

I remain still. Silent.

“Why are you acting like you just saw a ghost?” the red-lipped woman asks. “We don’t bite.”

The women in the room giggle, and I easily see that everyone is… comfortable.

“What’s your name?” she asks, cutting off the laughter.

They don’t recognize me…yet. I consider giving a fake name but trying to keep my true identity is going to be impossible once we join the men. Apollo Godwin and his family own Heathens Hollow. Even if the women don’t recognize me, they will soon recognize him.

“Daphne,” I answer as I reposition myself to sit on my thigh. The large tail makes it impossible to fully sit on my butt, so I have no choice but to find a position that seems to enhance my sensuality when, in fact, that is the last thing I am meaning to do.

“Daphne Godwin? Apollo’s wife?”

I nod and swallow the lump that forms in the back of my throat.

“We are sitting with royalty,” a girl, who leans against a wall, says. She is dressed in a black puppy tail and has a black leather mask covering her face. Her costume is far more extensive and involves leather jewelry with a thicker collar than others. “Godwins rarely attend The Vault.” Her eyes glance at my tail. “He even gave you a white tail and a diamond collar. Very… Godwin-like.”

I struggle to process the women before me. It’s clear they are all here by choice. Every single one of them, and they assume I am as well. And for some bizarre reason, I don’t want to let on that my husband has taken me to Heathens Hollow, and everything about this situation is forced. It’s like I’m in a high school locker room trying to fit in with the cool cheerleaders or something. I also have been so groomed to protect the Godwin name at all cost, that I don’t want to mar Apollo’s reputation at all. Ironic, since trying to destroy him is what landed me in this situation.

Regardless, I remain silent.

It isn’t like they can help me anyway if I told them the truth. They won’t cross a Godwin and help me escape. Not if they value the land they live on. They only lease the land. Not own. A Godwin can evict without cause, and most certainly will if given a reason. If anything, they may make the situation worse if they told their men about me and then the men told Apollo. I don’t think Apollo would appreciate a scene at The Vault.

Awkward silence is soon replaced by the women going about whatever conversations they were having before I entered the room. I’ve never been one to really like cocktail parties or social gatherings. But I married into that life, however, so I have attended countless numbers of boring, pointless nights. I’m not good at small talk just for the sake of it. I’m not good at laying on the charm to complete strangers.

But at least at those parties, I had a fucking dress on.

Here I sit. With a tail in my ass that’s growing more uncomfortable by the minute and a collar that still feels humiliating regardless if it’s made of diamonds. And the other women just sit around in their own tails and collars, but they don’t seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. This is ordinary for them. They all smile and chat on as if they are at their very own cocktail party…minus the dresses and pretentious designer purses and heels.

And the craziest thing about it all is that I’m the odd one in the room. I don’t know how to just sit comfortably. I don’t know what to look at or what to do. I don’t want to stare at their nudity or how some have ears or fake eyelashes. One woman even has contact lenses in that look like the iris of an actual cat. I don’t want to stare, but I can’t help it.

I can’t get comfortable no matter what position I try to sit in. It must be obvious because the red-lipped woman looks at me again and says, “Not used to the tail?”

“It’s…big,” I answer, not really sure what to say but regret how whiney my response sounds.

“It’s best to not move so much,” she advises. “The weight of the plug is shifting around and stretching you with every move. It’s best to relax and stay as still as you can. Don’t clench.”

Before I can ask exactly how you don’t clench when your body wants the invasion out, the door opens and the staff member who brought me here stands in the doorway.

“Come, pets. It’s dinnertime. Your masters are waiting for you to join them.”

Praise the fucking lord. I could eat a bowl of cat food at this stage.

Every woman moves toward the door on hands and knees, crawling with their leashes dragging behind them. I take this as my cue and do exactly the same. The heavy weight of my tail becomes even more obvious as I crawl like an animal in single file to the main room.

All the men are seated at the dining room table, including Apollo at the head. They all watch us enter the room with smiles and hungry eyes as we interrupt their meeting. I make eye contact with Apollo, and I see he seems pleased. Whether that is with me crawling like a good pet, or that he sits in a room full of women on hands and knees. Regardless, I never break my stare as I follow the other women under the table. Each woman rests at the feet of their “masters”, and I pick up quickly that I’m about to do the same at Apollo’s feet. I don’t have time to process or even protest that we are under a table. Slacked pants and black leather shoes are all we can see of the powerful men.

And the most twisted question of all runs through my head…

Are we going to eat under the table at the men’s feet?

And why do all the surrounding women seem happy? They’re smiling. Some are rubbing their faces on their man’s leg like an obedient pet would do. Others crouch and patiently await whatever will come next. No one is blushing. No one is crying. No one is pissed or holding back fury. Not one single woman is in distress of any kind.

Apollo reaches under the table and places his palm on the top of my head. He gently runs his fingers between my hair…petting me.

Petting his bunny.

And fuck me… My pussy throbs.

“Let the pets eat first,” I hear Apollo’s voice say from above. “Since they’re behaving so well.”

Shortly after, I see bowls of penne pasta with red sauce and thick pieces of sausage pushed under the table. Each woman grabs a bowl and positions it in front of them. The red-lipped woman is the first to place her face into the bowl and begin eating it as a cat would. No hands. Just her mouth.

Every other woman quickly follows. It isn’t savage, as one would expect, having ten women under a table eating out of bowls with their mouths. In fact, the women have a certain elegance and grace about them. They clearly have had practice at it.

Me, however, not so much. Even getting my face to the bowl feels odd. It forces my ass out and high, causing my asshole to tighten against the plug. I have to spread my thighs to help me in lowering my face enough, and the cool air against my damp pussy embarrasses me. What if the other women see the signs of arousal? What if they see how wet I am getting as my breasts and hardened nipples caress the cold floor as I take bites of the pasta?

By the sound up above, it’s clear dinnertime has begun for the men as well. They laugh and speak as people would do at any normal party. As if there are not ten of their pets eating out of bowls at their feet.

Apollo’s hand reaches down and touches my spine as I’m hunched over my food eating. Softly, he runs his fingertips up and down, soothing me. Comforting me. Looking up from my bowl and at the other women, I see that other men are doing the same to their pets, and every woman has a look of pride and contentment on their faces. And I understand… I feel warm and safe under Apollo’s touch. I have no idea why, and I have no idea why I press my body up against his leg so that I feel his warmth against me. But I do.

After we are all done eating, each woman pushes their bowls out from underneath the table, and I see the feet of someone coming along to collect them. I watch everything all the women do and copy the best I can. I even lick my hand and wipe it against my face as an animal would bathe. We all have red sauce on our faces, but I see it is our duty to clean ourselves while the men continue to talk up above.

For the most part, I can’t really make out what is being said. It seems like idle chatter, but then I hear Apollo say “Poseidon,” and I struggle to listen the best I can. Captive or not, I am still a Godwin and know that though Poseidon is part of Medusa Enterprises, it’s always been a thorn in Apollo’s side. I had heard my husband use the words “shady,” “illegal,” and “cowardly” to describe the division often.

“Poseidon is bringing the danger to Heathens Hollow. It’s right on our docks now,” a man speaks.

“Athena is working on it,” Apollo says. “I don’t think I have to remind any of you just how convincing my sister can be. You have nothing to worry about.”

“They’ve been slowly doing this for years,” another voice says. “I don’t think your family is truly aware of how deep this vein runs. Poseidon isn’t some small business on the island you can easily muffle.”

“My uncle runs Poseidon, but my father runs Medusa, and that trumps everything. Poseidon is simply a branch of the family tree. A tiny twig compared to Medusa,” Apollo says. “Athena is having a little chat with dear ol’ uncle. I can assure you.”

“We don’t have to tell you this, but we value the privacy of Heathens Hollow. The last thing we want is attention directed our way,” another voice says. “Our local sheriff can only deflect the authorities for so long.”

“Understood. We’ve had enough legal shit as of late,” Apollo says. “My family is determined to leave that shit in Ares’ coffin. We have no desire to get involved with any of Poseidon’s side hustle, nor will we allow it.”

“We appreciate you coming here and telling us this in person,” someone says.

“Of course. But enough of this talk for now. We have some beautiful pets at our feet that need some attention. Pets,” Apollo calls out. “Come out and sit on your master’s lap.”