Chapter 24
“Hm!” he said. “Your hair is too short. Nothing to hold onto.” Still, the hand continued to caress my head, fingering my ears—which I thought he seemed to consider grasping—then along my cheek and the line of my jaw.
Then, abruptly, the hand was removed. Anatole went over to the door, which was still unlocked. He opened it, turned, and said, “Stay here.”
I nodded, looking up at him. He left and went upstairs. A minute later he returned, closed the door, and held something out before him.
It was a halter, leather straps connected by metal rings.
“Up!” he said. “Onto your knees!”
I complied. He removed my pajama top and fastened the halter over my torso. When the thing was adjusted and clicked into place, I felt a shiver of something new—something frightening, perhaps, but exciting too.
“That is better,” he murmured. “Now, sit!”
I sat, in dog fashion, my bum on my heels.
“Good! Now, look at me!”