Elite: Ann Possible — The Quiet Hours (392 photos) (Patreon)

She puts the collar on when the rest of the house goes dark. The buckles are simple. She tightens them until the straps sit flat against her skin, then checks the line of them in the low blue light from the monitors. Nothing else goes on. The boots come later, once she’s already decided she isn’t going anywhere.

She walks the room first. The floor is cool under her feet. When she kneels she does it slowly, hands braced, shoulders rolled back so the harness pulls. She stays like that, glancing over her shoulder at the empty doorway, then at her own reflection in the dark screen. The smile that follows is small and private. She doesn’t fix her hair. The short bob falls where it wants.

Most of the time she keeps to the desk. One knee up, straps crossing her chest, the collar sitting easy at her throat. She leans on one hand and watches the monitors cycle through empty feeds she doesn’t need anymore. The quiet is better than the noise used to be. She could turn them off. She could take the collar off and go upstairs. She just hasn’t felt like it yet. The straps stay on. The boots stay on. The door stays closed. For now that’s enough.

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