It was almost a relief when Jenny realised she'd been caught. She was used to being on the run, but after what happened in Venice, it had become exhausting in a way she had never felt.

Her day began, like so many had before, in the back seats of her dream truck. A huge four-door cabin with a spacious back tray. Bright red as scarlet, as audacious and loud as she was and a statement on how she would never go unnoticed again.

That used to bring her comfort, but now it was a source of fear.

The night before Jenny had squeezed her beautiful truck down what was apparently the smallest alleyway in Rome, so much so that she had scraped the paint off one, maybe both sides of the truck. But that was a secondary problem, one she could fix.

She couldn't fix what she'd done to Nicole.

Starting up the growling beast of her truck, she slowly ground her way out of the alley and back into the morning streets of Rome. It was early enough that the city was still quiet, the sun hadn't even risen. That was fine. It was a long drive to the next city and she needed to get out of the country fast. She'd outrun her own guilt before. She was comfortable knowing she could do it again.

But before anything else, she knew she needed breakfast. And aside from what had happened, driving through Italy was a joy in that regard. Travel truly was what called to her most, freedom being the ultimate joy in her life. Sure, the novelty of everything was wonderful, the new places and architecture, food and drink and drugs and music and whatever else she could find in these new places.

Eventually, she spotted a little deli she hadn’t visited yet and peeled her car out of traffic to park at the curb. She wouldn’t be there long.

Locking the car behind her, she stepped through the threshold and ordered a sandwich in fluent Italian. She’d learned that she had a knack for learning languages, letting her become something of a polyglot in the years of her travels. If she only hadn’t seen Nicole, maybe she could’ve worked as a translator.

The kindly deli man offered the finished sandwich to Jenny, and she sat inside, facing away from the outside world while she ate.

Nicole.

Ever since she had seen Nicole and used that damned recording she’d commissioned, painstakingly edited until it was just exactly right, and held onto purely for the satisfaction of having something – any sort of weapon – she could use against those two monsters from that depraved mansion.

But she’d used it on the wrong person. As soon as she realised it was her again, that it was Nicole, but not the Nicole she had come to know, a painful regret ached inside her whole body.

It took her a good twenty minutes to finish half her sandwich, and another half hour to finish the other. Even after that she sat for another ten, mulling over her own thoughts until something prickled at the back of her neck. Some fearful, familiar sensation.

She had to move.

Leaving the shop, she fumbled with the keys to her truck before clambering back into the cabin. It was only then that she noticed something out of place. A little piece of paper stuck behind the windscreen wiper.

If it was just a parking ticket she’d be fine. It wouldn’t be long until she was out of the country anyway so it wasn’t like she needed to pay it off. However she knew that even in Italy, parking tickets didn’t usually come on expensive monogrammed paper.

Winding down the window, she reached across her window and ripped it out from behind the wiper. She held it in her hands. She knew who this was from. She could smell her perfume on it.

How the fuck did she find her?

Opening the little sheet of paper confirmed it. The handwriting was a perfect match, finely practised calligraphy and written with only the finest precision fountain pen.

Café Benedict – 7:55 am. I’ll be outside.
— Jasmine

An invitation? From her? In person, no less.

She wanted to tear it apart in her hands. Rip the thing to shreds, slam the truck into gear and never look back. But even as she held it tensely in her hands, she couldn’t forget about what happened the last time she visited a café. About what happened the last time she saw her. Saw Nicole.

She looked down at the address for Café Benedict. Then at the clock on the dashboard of her truck.

Swearing, she turned the keys in the ignition and slammed it into gear, cutting off an expensive-looking Mercedez as she pulled out into traffic.

Jenny stepped towards the quiet café, her blood a curdled mixture of regret, fear, frustration, and potent loathing. She checked the time. 7:54 am.

It took her no time to see the person she feared would be there most; the one who had invited her. Jasmine. The one she used to call Mistress.

Her business suit and heels as impeccable as ever, Jasmine was frustratedly typing at a sleek laptop that looked like it may have been designed exclusively to her own specifications. A drained cup of espresso sat beside her, along with something Jenny would have never expected: a cigarette, held firmly between Jasmine's lips.

Jenny knew better than to keep her waiting. She stepped over, her movements automatically correcting themselves from the sheer muscle memory Jasmine's presence induced. The sensation of dainty steps in her elaborate punk rock platform boots was foreign and discordant to Jenny, already putting her off balance.

She needed to speak first, partly to regain some control of the situation. Partly to remind herself she didn't belong - would never belong - to her.

All it took was a look from Jasmine to silence Jenny before she even opened her mouth to speak.

'Sit. I will only spare five minutes.'

Jenny did as she was instructed, partly without even realising it. She'd even resumed the same pristine posture she'd kept up at the mansion.

Jenny worried that somehow Jasmine was in her head already. How much had she done to her?

'I will begin by saying it was not my intention to seek you out. It was by sheer happenstance that I saw your truck from my window. Had a previous meeting I had scheduled with an art collector  not fallen through, I would have thought nothing of it,' she spoke, tapping out her cigarette remains before extinguishing it in the ashtray, noticing Jenny’s questioning expression, 'I only smoke on special occasions. I gave up the habit after marrying Diana. But … a lot has changed in the last few months.'

Jenny looked confused. What was she talking about? Before she had a chance to ask, Jasmine leaned forwards, 'I will be plain with you. What you have done was irresponsible, cowardly, and cruel. The clauses stipulated in the breaching of your NDA are the barest minimum justice that I would have seen served against you.'

The admonishment made Jenny burn inside as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself quiet. She had been the cruel one? Jenny saw what Diana had done to that girl in the cage that night, how she so effortlessly wiped away weeks and months of memories with a single phrase. All after realising the person she had under her thumb wouldn't do as she wanted.

Then again, hadn't she done that same thing?

Jasmine continued, 'But. There is another option I would give you. It will only be offered this once. You may return to our mansion and pay your dues by indenture. As part of this contract you will be taught discipline and responsibility as well as whatever else is required of you to pay for what you've done,' she said before adding, 'However. As I said, things have changed. That includes the way we do things. Admittedly since many of our playthings have since chosen to pursue their own interests, they have left our mansion to live their own lives. Likely the only members of our harem you will see frequently are those who have elected to live with us; Clara and Precious.'

Jenny's eyebrows shot up. Was she being punked? The fact that the Mistresses said they'd let their slaves leave their mansion was hard enough to believe, but that Nicole was given the choice to leave ... and she stayed?

The Mistress pressed a final button on her computer and Jenny's phone buzzed.

'You now have a flight scheduled to bring you back home. After you land, one of our drivers will escort you back to the mansion,' Jasmine leaned in close enough that Jenny could smell the fine tobacco on her breath, 'The only reason - the ONLY reason - I am offering you this last chance is because it was a direct request from … a request from Nicole.'

Jenny was stunned. She had lost her grip on everything and was spinning totally without control. Nicole was asking this of her?

She remembered how happy her little mentee was when they both worked at the mansion. How Nicole hummed playfully while working, the way her cheeks dimpled when she was with almost everyone. But more than her general cuteness, she was so … genuine. Sincere with every action and thought, so willing to help and listen.

Everything Jenny wasn’t. Everything she didn’t deserve.

Jasmine suddenly stood up, having already packed away her things. She looked down at Jenny contemptuously as she spoke; 'You are smart enough to understand that there is a debt you owe. Let us hope you have the spine and humility to pay it.'

As Jasmine began to stalk away, Jenny was finally able to break her own silence.

'And what if this is a trap? How do I know you're not just going to … to mess with my head and turn me into one of your things? How do I even know this is my own choice!'

Jasmine's eyes turned back to Jenny, her look an utter concentration of vitriol. Jasmine, already standing over her former maid, leaned down closely so her lips were mere centimetres from Jenny's ears, her words a whisper with the promise of thunder.

'C'est fini.'

Jenny braced her entire body for the splitting headache, the rush of memories spiralling away from her brain, to forget everything she knew about everything that had happened.

Only … there was nothing.

Jenny's eyes peeked open. Jasmine was still standing there. She was still Jasmine.

Her old Mistress turned on her heel and strode away with speed and purpose.

Fuck, Jenny thought. She had a flight to catch.