Cleo leaves Velvet Vixen to squirm for a bit.

Velvet Vixen yanks hard against the silken restraints, her arms straining at the wrists, boots flexing as she fights the bonds tied artfully to the legs of the chaise lounge. The sashes don’t give—not even a little. They’re knotted with maddening precision, smooth as sin and just tight enough to let her feel the stretch of every futile movement.

She growls behind the gag, eyes locked on Cleo Capone.

Cleo watches with amusement from across the room, her drink in one hand, the other resting on her hip.

“Oh, kitten…” she purrs, letting out a low, indulgent laugh. “Do you really think you’re getting out of those? I tied you up myself. After everything you did tonight, did you really think I’d leave you a single inch of slack?”

Velvet Vixen answers with another frustrated squirm, arching her back slightly as she fights, cheeks flushed with exertion and embarrassment.

Cleo saunters back over and crouches beside the lounge, her gaze hungry, amused, and just a little cruel. She runs her fingers along one of the sashes at Kendrick’s thigh, testing the knot.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “Not a thread out of place. Just like you.”

Kendrick glares, breathing heavily through her nose, biting down on the gag as Cleo’s touch lingers just a moment too long.

“I should keep you like this forever,” Cleo muses. “You’re so much more manageable when you can’t talk.”

She leans in close, brushing her lips near Velvet Vixen’s ear.

“But first…”

She stands, straightening her suspenders with a little snap.

“I think it’s time I slipped into something more comfortable.”

Velvet Vixen lets out a stifled grunt—part challenge, part defiance.

Cleo smiles, slow and wicked, as she backs toward the hallway that leads deeper into her lair.

“Don’t go anywhere, darling,” she coos. “When I get back… we can have some real fun.”

With that, she turns and disappears behind a velvet curtain, leaving Velvet Vixen alone—tied tight, gagged, and struggling on a chaise lounge that seems built for this exact purpose.

The jazz plays on. The ropes hold.

And Velvet Vixen?

Still squirming.