No

“Why?” you ask.

“What do you mean why?” Naomi digs her fingers under the collar furiously. “Take this fucking thing off right now, I’m not a fucking ****.”

“But it suits you.”

“What?” She glares at you. “So what if it suits me, I don’t want to wear it.”

“But you have to wear it, it’s a rule here.”

“Take this fucking thing off of me, or we’re through.”

You stare each other down for a moment, Naomi’s hands on her hips.

“You don’t mean that,” you say. “Now go take a shower, you smell, and you’re sweaty. Relax about the collar, you’ll get used to it.”

She glares again, her blue eyes look so pretty when she’s angry. “I’ll get used to it?”

“Yes, now go and shower. And if you’re good, maybe I won’t punish you when you get out.” You think about the leaflet, and all the toys in the wardrobe.

“Whatever.” She shakes her head, slamming the bathroom door on her way in there.

While she’s in the shower, you open the wardrobe door, wondering whether or not to punish her and what to use.