Guests milled, weaving invisible paths on the wood floor. Grace followed their feet with her eyes, careful not to move. The metal rod was uncomfortably deep in her ass, and even the slightest movement backward inspired sharp intakes of breath. She’d been standing there, as still as possible, for over an hour, her calves beginning to cramp and her ankles and arches aching. Every muscle was taut, including the ones in her face that held her placid expression in place. It took everything she had to maintain a calm exterior of peace, which had been His only demand. The front door opened, unleashing a gust of cold air into the…