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Summary
“I’ve been thinking,” Dutch continued, his eyes glinting with an idea Arthur couldn’t quite decipher. “Tying him up like that, it’s so… pedestrian. So obvious. We need something with a bit more flair. A bit more… control, yet more freedom. Don’t you think so?”
He paused, letting his words hang in the air. Dutch’s “flair” usually involved something that made Arthur’s gut clench.
“I was thinking,” Dutch said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “a collar. And a leash. To keep him close. To remind him of his place.” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Imagine it, Arthur. A leash. Like a pet.”