It was late—just past midnight—but she was still awake. Awake and humming. Birthdays were cool. If only Tom Hiddleston were able to celebrate it with her... or Loki... she flung her arms out on the sheets and sighed.
"Loki, my birthday is March 1st. You know, there's an Internet meme that says I'm your sex slave. It's because people born on the first of a month are sex slaves and March is your month. I wish you would come and make me serve you for real."
To begin with, she didn't even notice the feathering sensations on her arms, they were so light. When it registered a few minutes later, she thought: spiders! And tried to brush them off. They simply grew firmer, the unmistakable pressure of invisible hands stroking her. She leaped out of bed, horrified.
For a second, the feeling disappeared. She stood in the middle of the room, panting. Thank God that was gone, whatever that had been.
When the hands returned, accompanied by a hot breath on her neck, she literally shrieked and ran for the door. It was locked. She raised her hands to pound on it and her wrists were caught in fingers like manacles.
"Caitlin."
That voice, she knew it instantly! Her whole body froze in disbelief.
"Loki?"
"Happy birthday, Caitlin. My slave."
She was overwhelmed, frightened and excited.
"I've got a birthday treat for you. A few hours in Asgard to serve me for real?"
"Yes! That's amazing, please, I'd love to!" She was so frightened that her knees were shaking, but there was no way in hell she was going to pass up an opportunity to visit Asgard with Loki. Loki!
"I must caution you." He sounded quite serious. "This is your last chance to say no. Come with me and you will be my slave, not for sport, but"—he smirked—"for real. Nothing unpleasant, I promise you, but you will not refuse me. I will not allow it."
"Okay." She absolutely did not give herself time to think about it, in case she talked herself out of this. "I agree."
Her clothes slithered to the floor, a sensation a bit like a bucket of warm water pouring over her. She blushed, her nipples instantly hard, and her hands fluttered to cover herself. Loki produced a collar and leash.
"I brought these just for you, Caitlin."
The collar snapped around her neck and locked with an alien padlock. It was heavy, thick, stiff leather. She moaned, feeling completely subjugated. The leash was a length of chain, as for a dog, only thicker. Loki allowed it to dangle against her bare flesh for a moment, before yanking her forward. A faint shimmer began to surround them.
"Wait!"
Loki raised an eyebrow.
"Are we going somewhere private?"
"Slaves do not ask questions." Loki turned away coldly and her bedroom disappeared from around them.
The room they materialized into was a private (and empty) bed chamber. She sighed in relief.
Her eyes were so busy taking in the enormous bed, draped in huge curtains and raised on a golden dais, that she nearly tripped when Loki pulled the leash in the opposite direction. He seated himself in an ornate chair before a large table strewn with papers. The loop of the leash went over his non-dominant wrist. He frowned at her.
"It is unbecoming," Loki suggested politely, "for you to stand while I am seated."
There were no chairs within reach of her leash. To be entirely honest, she would have been disappointed if there were. The stone was warm beneath her, perhaps owing to the large fire which blazed in a pit in the center of the room. It looked very real but produced no smoke and she wondered if it were a fancy magic fire, a kind of alien electric fireplace.
