As Liam moved away from the closet, he left it standing wide open, leaving a full view of everything on display inside. Whips, crops, canes, paddles. A whole array of striking implements. Blindfolds, gags, hoods. Several varieties of harnesses. There were leather shops with smaller selections that what was contained in that closet.

"It is," Liam said, flicking an imaginary bit of dust off the canvas. "And it's yours until I decide otherwise." He looked up at Mike, his face unreadable beyond it's sternness.

When he spoke again it was a single word, but it carried with it incredible amounts of authority. Stern and severe. The sort of tone that expected to be obeyed. He simply said, "strip."