They enter the bedroom again. H instructs L to dry her off as he searches for something to wear. Rummaging through L's garments he holds up a silk negligee. L stops towel drying the woman's hair and frowns. "No?" H responds, "You don't feel like sharing, do you? You don't want to see these pretty things I've bought you on her. Well, I suppose that's fair. You did work hard to earn them. And they look so delicious against your pretty pink skin." H picks up the woman's bound hands and inspects them. Her nails are rough and her hands scratched and scabbed. H places the negligee back, much to L's relief. "We can't have her ruining your nice things." H moves to another drawer and pulls out an old T-shirt of his. "She'll wear this instead. It'll do her good, in any case, to get used to her master's scent."
L pulls the shirt over the woman's head but stops when she realizes the woman's hands are still bound. She looks rather like a flustered owlette with her half dried head poking out of the top. H laughs and grabs the knife. "I'm going to release your arms," he says, sliding the lead still connected to her collar through the shirt. "You are not to abuse this privilege. If you move to attack me, I will subdue you. But if you hurt her," he gestures toward L, "You'll go back to being a street bitch. You have an opportunity here, to join our little family. Don't squander it." He cuts the ropes. She sways slightly as if to run or perhaps in a fleeting thought of attack, but remains where she stands. "Good," he says, sincere affection in his voice. "Good."
H opens the kennel at the end of the bed and taps it with his foot. "This is where you sleep tonight." The woman gives a disbelieving, insulted stare. "Oh, is this not better than the trash heap I found you on?" L stifles a giggle. "It has a blanket and cushioned bedding. If you're too good for that, you can go back to that flea-filled back alley mattress." The woman scowls but kneels and ducks into the kennel. H kneels at the door and unclips the leash, wrapping it in his hands. "It won't be like this forever, wild one," he whispers. "In time, you'll be just as pretty and polished as she is. Then you can have your spot on the bed." H winks and closes the door, locking it.
"Come," he gestures to L, "We need to wash off the day's grime." H and L enter into the bathroom and close the door. The woman tries not to notice the sounds of pleasure not completely muffled by the shower that begin after a few minutes. Aching deep in the pit of her gut, she considers touching herself but resists. She's uncertain if this would result in further reprimand, and this bed, though in a kennel, is the warmest and softest place she's had to rest in months. Exhaustion hits her in a wave and she curls up, inhaling the scent of the shirt. It is rich and masculine. Her heart hungers for the comfort of a partner almost as much as her cunt.
After a half hour, the bathroom door opens. L walks into the room naked and amidst the smell of soaps, the woman detects the odor of sex seeping from her. She flushes with envy.
The woman chances a glance while remaining unmoving. L is voluptuous, with heavy tits and round, thick hips. The woman wonders if this is what H likes, and if so, why he pulled her off the street. She had never been so gifted, and the weeks scrounging for food and fighting for territory had diminished her already small frame. For the first time, she feels a flicker of self-consciousness. She smothers it and closes her eyes. L is humming as she slips herself into her night clothes.
The woman realizes she failed to observe H completely. Her eyes snap open only to realize he is already in bed and out of her view. Despite herself, she curses. She longed to see him. All of him.
L crosses the room and climbs into bed next to H. The sound of a fan cuts on and provides a gentle hum. The woman hears L fall asleep first. She can tell by her change in breath. How many times had she listened to that pattern of breathing before she slit a throat and made off with the money? How efficiently could she do that here, with two of them? She'd already marked where in the room valuables were likely secured, and the knife lay on the dresser not five feet away. H was correct in what he had said. She did indeed know what a knife could do.
Despite her best efforts to remain awake to take further note of her surroundings, she quickly slipped into slumber, unsure if she'd yet heard H do the same.
