
The candles had burned low by the time the last knock sounded. Arjun’s room no longer looked like a hostel room. The two mattresses had been pushed together into one wide, low platform that nearly filled the floor. Fourteen lengths of rope lay ready. The leather belt hung from the chair. A larger bottle of coconut oil stood open. Two fresh collars waited on the table beside the twelve already being worn.
Fourteen soft knocks.




















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