The bauble still hangs heavy round her neck, swinging so free for a stolen thing, but Dru’s bent over the table, shackled, and she can’t touch. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” the copper whispers, breath like ice. “Now I have to punish you.”
“Oh no,” Dru says, as she’s meant to.
“Oh yes,” says the copper. Cool touch up Dru’s thigh, bunches her skirts, leaves her bare-arsed as a babe.
Dru waits, a-shiver. Gasps at the first stinging slap. “Do it again!” she cries, forgetting.
“Naughty little slut,” Darla hisses, uniformed and helmeted and sleek. She winds up again.