Page 39 of Obey

"You okay?" My voice is rough against his ear.

He lets out a contented sigh. "Totally worth it."

I kiss his sweat-soaked temple, letting my lips linger there. "You’re such a fucking masochist," I tell him, my arms tightening around him.

He tips his head just enough to brush his lips against mine. "Don't you forget it, Sir."

ten

Blind Test

The apartment is too quiet without Trey.

He left a note on the counter: on a date, don’t wait up, and leftovers I’m not hungry enough to touch.

The silence makes every thought echo, but the black blur launching from the back of the couch and landing square on my chest with an offended mrrp fixes that.

“Hello to you too,” I say to Cypress as I scratch behind his ear. He purrs the second my hand makes contact, kneading at my sweater before curling into the crook of my arm. His warmth gives me something uncomplicated to focus on.

My work phone buzzes on the coffee table beside me, but I don’t reach for it. My mind is a mess.

I want them, and it’s too embarrassing to deny.

There. I said it, universe. Are you happy?

Cypress presses his head into my chin like he’s trying to physically shove three powerful, infuriating men out of my bloodstream.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He blinks, unimpressed, then hops down and stalks toward his food bowl with the exaggerated dignity of a creature who believes he owns the lease.

Sighing, I grab my laptop under the pretense of checking tomorrow’s schedule.

Ten minutes later, I’m wandering through corners of the employee portal I’ve never bothered to open.

Then a new post catches my attention.

✦ Employee Testing Initiative ✦

Confidential & Anonymous | SOLAÉ Internal Only

Selected employees are paired with unreleased devices and guided through private, professionally facilitated sessions on Floor 5.

Participation is recorded under an anonymous tester ID. Session recordings and responses are stored separately from employee identities.

Sessions run weekday evenings. Compensation is $200 per visit. Discretion is guaranteed—yours and ours.

My mouth goes dry as I click past the privacy waiver and physical readiness checklist. The cursor drifts over the final button, a digital dare.

Calm down, Sloane. It’s just research. Fieldwork even. If I’m supposed to support three egos running a pleasure empire, I might as well understand how the products work.

Clicking ‘Apply’, the page that loads is nothing like the public site. Sterile white, minimalist type. Anonymized identifiers. A form asking about comfort with recording, prior device use (optional), and limits. It promises: Analysts receive session data and audio only—no names attached.

Of course it does. SOLAÉ could sell sin to a priest if it’s packaged right.

I should shut the laptop. Forget I ever saw it. Instead, my fingers are already moving, ticking boxes, flying through dropdowns. At the submission screen, I pause. Then I think about how badly my own toys have been abused lately and press it.

A confirmation flashes: ID: zero-four-five Session: Friday, 8:45 p.m. Thank you for your participation.