Chapter 29

I try to slow my steps as Omar tugs the reins, my bare feet dragging slightly across the wooden floor. I can’t. I can’t walk out there and—

But the memory of his whispered threat stops me cold. Clit ring, Pixie. Behave. One week of perfect compliance or the piercing happens. The conditional torment hangs over me like a blade, and I know—I absolutely know—that Omar will follow through.

My resistance crumbles. My feet move properly, knees lifting in the trained gait as Omar guides me toward the door.

Sean holds it open, watching my submission with professional satisfaction. “See you tomorrow morning, Omar. Nine o’clock at the auction grounds.”

“We will be there,” Omar confirms, his weight shifting on my back as I step through the doorway into the mid-morning sunlight.

The brightness makes me squint after the dim office interior. The street outside is busier now—market day crowds moving between stalls, children running past, women carrying baskets. All of them free. All of them clothed.