Two bathrooms, one with a Jacuzzi tub. Beautiful kitchen, open to the leather-and-brass living room.

With a flick of a switch, Ty lights the gas fireplace, which throws a gentle gleam across the hardwood **

floor. He gestures toward the rich burgundy leather sofa and goes into the bedroom. Blink of an eye, **

back he comes, holding a big wooden box. He sits close, opens the hand- carved oak, reveals the cache inside.

208.

This Is Something New My uncle has connections you wouldn't believe, says Ty.

He pulls out a baggie, a quarter full of some crumbly brown substance.

When he cracks the bag, the perfume that escapes smells like heaven.

Opiated hash. Ever tried it?

I shake my head no, but Ty is quick to remedy that, filling **

a small pipe bowl with a miniature ball of opium-laced hashish.

He takes the first toke, and now heaven's on fire, and smoking.

Still holding his hit, Ty cautions around it, Little tokes, now.

Don't want to cough this stuff out.

Hold it as long as you can.

Slowly I inhale a taste sweeter than any before. Greedy me 209.

wants more, but I remember his warning. The smoke expands **

in my lungs, and I'm glad I didn't take more. I hold it until I just have **

to let go. When I finally do, my head is tingling all over.

Ty looks at me, measuring.

Having fun yet? 'Course you are.

And sweetheart, this is just the start.

We've still got games to play.

210.

Games, Ty-Style Don't even begin until we're well into the fun. Drinking. Smoking.

Feeling the creep of the poppy, all along my spine, skull to tailbone.

I know the high is mostly hash, not so different from regular cannabis (though even tastier).

But the opium topper provides **

a whole new set of rushes. Body rushes, like little shivers. Head rushes, like turning in circles, round and round, don't fall down.

Shall we move the party into the bedroom?

Ty reaches over, kisses me. Hard. Harder.

My heart screams in my chest.

His teeth rake my bottom lip, move down over my chin, down my neck. Not too hard.

Not really. But hard enough.

Should I have worn garlic and a silver cross? I laugh out loud at the thought, and I realize how fucked up I am.

211.

Ty stands, holds out his hand, but I am so messed up, all I can do is laugh. He pulls me to my feet.

What's so funny?

"Nothing. Everything. You.

Me. Especially me. My head feels like it came unattached, and my body is all tingly."

His grin is pure evil.

Excellent.

I know just how to fix that.

He picks me up, carries me into his bedroom, half throws **

me onto the bed. When he starts to undress me, I burst into a new fit of giggles. My jeans are so tight, he can't wiggle me out of them.

"Want some help, my macho vampire?" I shed everything and he does too, but before we do another thing, he asks, **

How 'bout another bowl?

Something to take you real, real low.

He leers like a scary circus clown.

Low as a girl can go.

212.

True to His Word He drops me real, real low.

I'm floating on a poppy sea.

Naked. Mellow. But a sudden wind rouses the breaks and low **

tide builds to major swells. Ty kisses me, all fang, pure vampire.

"Hey. Take it easy." But somehow my body responds to the pain.

And Ty responds to that, clamping one hand around both my wrists, **

pulling them up over my head and pinning me helpless.

It is then I notice the nylon cord, one end tied tight to the headboard.

Ty's voice is almost a snarl.

This is one of my favorite games.

He wraps the rope around my wrists, knots it tightly. Escape-proof.

I shake my head. "Don't." But he does.

Should I scream? Would anyone hear?

213.

Would anyone care? The obvious answer softens my plea. "Please?"

Haven't you played this game before? guess I'll have to teach **

you the rules. The proper response would be, "Please, sir." Say it.

My heart yells, "No fucking way." But my brain, the part **

that understands my daddy, makes me acquiesce. "Please, sir."

He flips me onto my belly, yanks my legs apart. I don't have to see **

the restraints to know they're there.

The ankle knots do not surprise me.